


Eight Cakes and Two Eulogies (Make a Happy Marriage)

by yesllliam



Category: One Direction
Genre: AU, F/M, M/M, Not a smut fic but does contain scenes of a sexual nature, Please see notes for warnings and triggers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-04
Updated: 2015-04-06
Packaged: 2018-03-21 06:54:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 135,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3682287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yesllliam/pseuds/yesllliam
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Honourable Louis Tomlinson, heir to the Earldom of Colbury and the multi-billion pound family business, RLA Enterprises, often feels under pressure to conform to the expectations of those around him. The 30 year old, nerdy and rather homely physicist part of himself feels he ought to be getting married and carrying on the family line – as does his formidable Grandmother. The only problem is, after his last disastrous relationship, seven years ago, he has little desire to get intimate with another woman, let alone marry one. Of course, Harry, his famous actor of a best friend, always likes to pip in that he is free to marry him and while Louis loves him to pieces, the joke is getting a bit old now.</p><p>Listen to the amazing mix by evadiendo here: http://8tracks.com/evadiendo/eight-cakes-and-two-elougies</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prelude

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you: To imaginethat92 for doing her best to beta considering the 12 hour time difference and hotmail eating emails.  
> Warnings: Minor character death, adult themes, cheating, miscarriage, sexually transmitted diseases, possibly very minor homophobic and racist comments - the kind you find in every day life. If you are uncertain about other trigger themes that I may have forgotten to mention please ask before commencing.
> 
> NOTE; Eleanor Calder plays an unpleasent character in this story. This is fictional and does not represent her real persona in any way that I am aware of. I was going to use a different name for the part of the ex-girlfriend but upon discussion with others it was suggested that readers would picture her as either Eleanor or Hannah anyway and would call it a cop out on my part. If perceiving Eleanor in a fictionally poor light makes you uncomfortable I would not read this story x
> 
> MOST IMPORTANTLY: Please check out the amazing mix Evadiendo has created for the story http://8tracks.com/evadiendo/eight-cakes-and-two-elougies

_No, no, that’s not right_ … _why is that not right_? Louis flipped the page back to check his initial calculation. _Wattage over diameter squared, multiplied by power_ … _should be_ … he pressed the numbers back into the calculator. The resulting answer only matched four out of five of the original numbers he’d written down. _Bollocks,_ he swore to himself, _it’s a bloody seven not a one_. He scowled down at the notepad as he redefined the innocuous middle digit into an unmistakable seven. _Well that, right there, is a testament to the impossibility of dependable genius if one can’t read one’s own writing,_ he thought sarcastically. With two firm pen strokes his previous calculations were scored out and he flipped to a blank page. But before his pen could even make contact with the paper again, there was a soft knock on the office door. Looking up sharply, Louis blinked into the low light beyond his desk and was surprised to see Liam standing there - briefcase and coat in hand. _Crikey, it couldn’t be that late already_? he thought in horror. One glance at the multi-timezone clock under the giant conference TV was enough to confirm the reality; LDN 17:02. _Bloody hell, where has the time gone to today?_ He groaned to himself. _I wanted to get these calculations finished today so I could get straight in the lab tomorrow morning! I promised a working prototype by the end of the month – it’s the 19 th today! Why do I always do this to myself? Creating stress by making promises when I don’t need to. _

Normally, if he still had work to complete, Louis would either take the work home with him or, if that was impossible due to confidentiality or practicality, wave Liam off and stay after-hours. Unfortunately, tonight he couldn’t do that as he had a social engagement which he couldn’t get out of no matter what. Although he dearly wished he could. He _really_ wished he could. But… alas… such were the problems of his hereditary status; both work and social etiquette demanded he wined and dined the necessary pawns to keep everything moving along smoothly. It wasn’t done with any deceit; all parties knew exactly what was going on and benefited mutually. Louis wooed the people he needed to by using his status to garner them some media coverage. If it was business-based then it was a toss up between a very public dinner, a papped ‘coy’ meeting at either of their offices, or an appearance at a charity event or conference. Whichever the ploy, it would be up to Louis’ RLA’s PR department to alert the right press to pick up the story.

If it was less business-based and more social then Louis liked to keep it simple with either a dinner date or an event appearance – both of which were fairly harmless. He’d text a tip to the necessary pap agency, dress appropriately, do the deed, and his dinner partner’s name would be splashed across the media the next day. Business or social, PR stunts were the currency in prosperity in these modern times.

Tonight he had the delight of dining the daughter of a very wealthy industrialist. The father was currently being wooed to inject some of his business into the district of Colbury and Louis being seen ‘making nice’ with his daughter was part of the wooing agenda. The daughter, apparently, was a growing name in the field of horses and needed a little extra ‘exposure’ to attract some kind of sporting sponsorship. Louis hadn’t really been paying any attention to the details when his Grandfather had informed him of the evening’s proceedings. For all he knew about her situation, she could be looking for funding to bring horse meat into _every_ Tesco ready meal. Okay, that wasn’t likely, but you could never rule anything out these days.   
The bottom line was he didn’t care and, really, the only thing he’d been interested in was where the dinner date was being held. To his absolute delight, his Grandfather had informed him of a reservation at The Ivy – by far Louis’ favourite restaurant in London. If it was legal by law he would probably propose to their steamed orange pudding.

“Ready to go?” Liam asked with a tired smile.

“Yeah,” Louis stood up, gathering all the papers together and locking them up in his bottom drawer, “just give me a minute to pack up. I don’t know where the day went.” Rather than put the two heavy reference books back in the bookcase, he stowed them in the small cupboard of his desk, ready for him to use in the morning. “It’s funny,” he mused, “when I wished this morning’s conference with Japan would pass by in a flash it dragged on for about ten years; yet the afternoon, just when I really needed time to work on some calcs, it went by like that,” he made an explosion gesture with his hands.

Liam chuckled and picked Louis’ coat off the peg behind the door. “Opposite for us, mate. We were stuck running diagnostics all day. I would have _loved_ to have gone home four hours ago.”

“Oooh,” Louis pulled the obligatory sympathy face, “rather you than me. I hate diagnostics too – it’s so boring and repetitive.” He powered down his computer and switched the desk lamp off. “I usually fob it on to Perrie.”

“I know,” said Liam dryly, “we all have to listen to her moan about it during lunch.” Louis sniggered softly, “Perks of being the boss, mate. You get to delegate and you don’t have to listen to the moaning afterwards.” He paused to sneeze once, then twice.

“Bless you,” said Liam.

“Thanks. So how did that meeting go, did you manage to get that contract finalised? You know the one you talked about on the way in this morning?”

“The Proctor Project?” Liam deduced and pulled a face. “Yeah we did. _Finally_. Just waiting on the last few amendments being passed and then we’ll be good to go. It should turn out to be a nice little earner actually – worth the hassle, at least.”

“Good,” Louis nodded, standing up and packing his briefcase, “I was a little concerned when you lost both the AD Espan and Marrx 4 so close together.”

“Eh…” Liam shrugged unconcernedly, “the economy is still bogged down in the dip. We were lucky it wasn’t a lot worse. At least we lost them to the administrators rather than the competition. If it had been the other way around then I wouldn’t be going home right now.”

Louis smiled and made his way over to the door. “You and me both buddy. Cheers,” he said, taking his proffered jacket from Liam’s out-stretched hand. “You got any plans tonight?”

“Nah,” Liam sighed, “just a quiet one with the missus. She’s making lamb hotpot, which you’re more than welcome to join us for, if you want?”

Louis sighed wistfully. Sophia’s hotpot was knee-weakeningly good, especially on a cold day like today. “Thanks but I’ve a dpd tonight. At least it’s at The Ivy so I know the food will be good, unlike the last dpd.” He shuddered as he remembered the over-cooked squid he’d been forced to choke down at some wannabe one-star in Greenwich. It had been so rubbery that if he’d lobbed it across the restaurant it probably would have ricocheted off the exit door and taken his eye out. Needless to say, _Richesse Alimentaire_ took a knock on Trip Advisor after that visit.

Liam was already wincing. Dpd, ‘dine, pap and ditch’, was their code for an unsolicited high-profile PR dinner per Louis’ Grandparents’ request and Liam’s warning to have a bottle of _Veuve Clicquot_ chilling in the fridge, just in case. “ _Shit_ ,” he swore sympathetically, “who is it this time, and should I put Niall on shade alert?”

“She’s just some horse-daft daughter of an industrialist,” Louis replied, switching off the office lights, “and it’s a one-off – just a few pap pics to gain her some media coverage. I’m pretty sure the papers will report it as such.” They headed across the gallery to the lifts and as they stepped inside, Louis reconsidered, “But it also wouldn’t hurt for Niall to throw a little shade. I’d like some plausible deniability for when the media finally realises I’ve been celibate for the last seven years.”   
Liam snorted, “Considering the crap the media has made up over the years I don’t think anyone would believe you even if you did tell them the truth.”

“You’re probably right,” Louis chuckled. “Then again, with all the weddings we’ve got this year, some of the romance might finally kickstart the fire.”

“For your sake I hope it does,” said Liam softly, pressing the button for the ground floor, “you deserve to be happy.”

The evening was bitterly cold as they stepped out onto Tooley Street and, after bidding goodnight to the doorman, they tugged their coats tighter and set off for London Bridge Station. Being January, it was dark out at 5 o’clock, and the icy wind stripped water from their eyes as they navigated through the rush hour commuters heading home. As usual, the station was packed and they were jostled back and forth as they made their way down to the Jubilee platform. Louis had to keep holding his breath as the businessman in front of him had evidently long ago lost the battle of sweat versus antiperspirant and the smell was nauseatingly overpowering. Even Liam’s nose was twitching in displeasure from six steps behind.

Thankfully the trains were running on time today. After a four minute zip across the river, they disembarked with relief at Westminster to catch the westbound District Line home. This was a longer ride; about twenty minutes for Louis who got off at Parsons Green and an extra ten for Liam who stayed on to Southfields. It was still busy even though there were fewer passengers on this train but, as usual, they managed to get a seat and spent the time chatting about the latest controversy on Niall’s show. A St James’ Senior Boys alumnus, like themselves, Niall had steered away from general academia to the performing arts and was now a British household name when it came to radio and TV talk shows. His jocular Irish humour and daring nature had spawned many a shocking moment with his celebrity guests. One of the worst was during the aptly named game ‘he who dares, wins’ (where the guest has to complete a cringe-worthy challenge to win £1000 for a charity of their choice and the coveted ‘he who dares, wins’ trophy). He somehow managed to convince Russell Brand to drink fresh dog pee. Needless to say, the country was a bit wobbly after that visual cold-shower. It took Louis, himself, a month to stop feeling sick every time he went to the bathroom. However, the stunt was very good for Niall’s ratings, which, while already high, shot through the roof with a whopping amount of international interest. Compared to that incident, the latest controversy was pretty tame – just a recently released murderer talking about what had happened from his own point of view.

Just when he was falling into that wonderful lull of stupidly warm and sleepy from the gentle swaying motion, the train pulled in to Parsons Green. Liam wished him luck for his night out and Louis waved half-heartedly as he stepped off onto the icy platform. It was wickedly cold here as the winter wind ripped savagely through the streets. In this part of town there were no high-rise buildings to buffer pedestrians from the weather’s ire. He shivered violently as his hair was whipped this way and that, and his nose began to burn from the chill. Sometimes he wished he kept a car down here… but, then again, driving through central London was a nightmare at the best of times, let alone at rush hour. His house was less than a ten minute walk from the station anyway. A handsome Victorian terraced house with red brick and white decorative masonry, Louis’ home was set on a quiet one-way street on the posher side of Fulham. It wasn’t a mansion by any means, but it afforded him a privacy and normalcy that other areas of London could never compete and that’s what matters in the end.

The mail was scattered across the inside mat as per usual and he had to pick it up first lest trample over them with grimy footprints. Lord knows what nasty germs one picked up walking on London’s streets. There were two thousand years worth of plague history around these parts; not that he expected to catch anything of epidemic proportions from something off his shoe. Still… it was good to be hygienic.

Closing the door to the night air was like stepping into a warm bath – his face and fingers started to tingle back to life and he had to swipe a hand over his nose, which was beginning to run. Kicking off his shoes and dumping his coat and brief case next to the stairs, he made a beeline for the kitchen, switching on lights as he went and dumping the post on the table. He needed a proper brew.

While the kettle boiled for tea, Louis sifted through the letters. _Bill, invoice, junk, junk, statement, more junk, another invoice… ooh this looks interesting_. He picked up the thin white envelope and flipped it over. At once his stomach fluttered and his breath caught in his throat. _What the fuck_?! It was addressed to _The Hon. Louis Tomlinson & Harry Styles Esq. _Had Harry been joking about them being married to each other to his guests again? He’ll wring his neck if he bloody had! It had taken him three months to convince Lord Howden Harry had just been pulling his leg and, no, a major scandal wasn’t about to drop. Mind, that incident had happened a number of years ago now, before Harry had admitted to all and sundry that he was bisexual. Not that that had done much damage to his career – instead of being linked to every woman in a fifteen foot radius, he was now linked to every woman, man, fictional character, and lamppost.   
He ripped the envelope open and yanked out the inner card. It was a wedding invitation judging by the fancy double ring design on the front. Great, _another_ wedding for him to attend this year. That made four he had to go to now, along with a few stag dos – one of which he had to organise. Good grief, he wasn’t going to get many weekends to himself to just chill out and relax. He opened the card up and skimmed the contents, “blah, blah, blah and blah blah blah would like you to attend the wedding of their daughter Lady Amelia Cunningham-Wexford to Lieutenant Cole Spencer on Saturday 29th March at 2pm, Clearwell Castle, Gloucestershire…” Oh, it was the official invite to Cole and Amelia’s wedding, of course, how stupid could he be? Amelia had said the invites would be going out soon. He had just known he was going for so long now that he’d forgotten it wasn’t official yet. He skimmed to the bottom where there was a handwritten P.S from Cole. _Calm down Lou, Harry just asked us to send his invite to you for safe keeping. He hasn’t gotten you married off yet, although not from lack of trying! I just couldn’t resist putting the wind up you by addressing you both together – although I don’t doubt Harry will be highly delighted._ _Cole_. Christ, he was going to kill him. He really was. What if the postman had put two and two together with their names and tipped off the press?! It would be a publicity nightmare! The majority of the public didn’t know they had been friends since school, and that this wedding thing was a long standing joke. Sure, Louis had had a crush on Harry for years and, despite all the jokes, Harry probably had a very real crush on him too, but it was never going to happen. Not because of scandal or anything, because he couldn’t give a damn what anyone thought, nor was it a gay thing, it was just that Louis had serious issues and couldn’t have a relationship with anyone right now. If ever. Therefore he and Harry would never happen. If only Harry would realise that. Louis whipped out his mobile and punched in, _go to hell twatface_ **_> :(_** before pressing send. Barely a minute later, the phone chirped a response, **Haha! You got the invite then? :P** Louis rolled his eyes, glaring at the screen. _Yeah. Not funny. What if the postman had sold us out?_ He poured himself a cup of tea and awaited the reply. **Couldn’t resist m8. And Old Berty sell you out? Never!** Shaking his head, because it was kind of true, Berty would never sell them out - he likes Louis’s strawberry tarts too much. _(1)I’ll get my own back with the wedding gift. Haha. (2)Watch out for an ugly stuffed dog or a jumbo tube of Anusol_ He took a few sips of tea and waited for the reply. This time the messages came from Amelia, **(1)Weak threat babe. (2 )We no u’ve already ordered the Wedgwood Tea Set! (3)Send Harry our love when u call him cos we both no u’re already checking t-zones. (4) & don’t 4get to send the RSVP card 4 u both xx **Louisglared at the messages, he hated translating text speak at the best of times, and punched in _You’re so mean! Also learn to type properly_ then let the convo sit for a few minutes before following up with a grudging, _congrats though, love you xx_

After finishing his tea, he headed up the stairs and started to prepare for the night’s soiree. As he hunted through his wardrobe for a suitable outfit, he reluctantly dialled the number he’d promised himself to cut down on. Sometimes he felt they lived too much in each other’s pockets to be healthy, especially when they were very much _not_ dating. It took a while for the line to connect. Four thousand miles will do that though, and often the reception wasn’t great on the small island. After a long ten seconds, the line finally began to ring and it was answered by the obnoxious tone of Harry’s PA, “Nick Grimshaw, personal assistant to Harry Styles? How can I be of _service_?” While very much not a violent man, if ever there was someone Louis would like to punch, it would be Nick Grimshaw’s pompous, brown-nosing face.

“Change the line, you sound like a hooker,” he answered curtly. “Give the phone to Harry and stop answering his personal calls.”

There was a pause before Nick drawled, “Ah, _Tomlinson_ , straight to the point and charming as ever. I regret to inform you that Harry is currently shooting on set and cannot cater to your whims right now… but I can pass on a message?”

Gritting his teeth, Louis sighed and said, “Fine. Tell him our attendance has been officially requested at Cole and Amelia’s wedding. It’s on the 29th March at 2pm, Clearwell Castle in Gloucester. Get him to give me a call, whenever he gets a chance, to let me know if he can make it and I’ll RSVP for the both of us.” Then he remembered he was going out, “Oh, but tell him not to call in the next few hours, I’ve got a dpd tonight.” He hung up as Nick began to ask what the hell a dpd was.


	2. Chapter 1

Stifling a yawn with his gloved hand, Louis took the opportunity to cross the busy road as the pedestrian crossing he was passing turned green. He darted his way around lagging school girls and harassed mothers pushing buggies of screaming kids, thinking about the day ahead. There was a lot he had to get done but it was subject to getting those calculations finished fast. He attempted to sketch an action plan in his head. It was only as he was passing the West 9 newsagents, that his attention was diverted by one of the newspapers on the outside rack. He'd recognise that mop of curls _anywhere_. Taking a step backwards, he picked the paper out and unrolled it enough to read the small article. **Harry Styles seen with mysterious blonde girl on La Gosier beach**. Louis glanced at the rather blurry photograph and choked on an incredulous laugh. **Sources say the two seemed intimate - with Harry often cuddling the lucky lady or carrying her around on his back. Mr Styles, who is rumoured to be dating US model Karla Berghaus, is currently filming the fifth series of the popular crime drama "Changing Horizons" in Guadeloupe. We wonder how Karla will react to seeing her b...** Louis shook his head incredulously and then laughed again, "how e _mbarrassing_ ," he muttered to himself. As he had a quick flick through the rest of the paper he saw there was even an article of himself out with Lorena last night. They must have added that particular article right before going to press. Unable to help himself, he took the paper inside and paid for it. After all, Harry's article was comedy gold and had to be made fun of. Just as he was exiting the shop, hand midway through pocketing his change, his phone vibrated;

>Liam: Going 2 b l8 in. Charlies not well. Taking him 2 doctors

Louis waited until he was on the station platform before replying - he'd long ago learned the hard way not to walk and text at the same time.

>Louis: Poor kid. Nothing too bad I hope :(

>Liam: Soph thinks its tonsil-itis

>Louis: Aww, well tell him Uncle Louis hopes he gets better soon :)

>Louis: And when he does, we'll go back and visit the penguins. Jack too.

The reply came just as the train pulled in and there was a rush forward.

>Liam: Fine bt no more stffd toys. Always tripping over them >:(

Smirking, Louis stepped aboard and had to stand near the opposite door due to the busyness of the carriage. He smiled at the business man and woman he recognised from the daily commute and turned his attention back to his phone, furiously typing back.

>Louis: Hey, we're building a collection. I take my fav. uncle duties very seriously!

>Liam: In 2yrs he'll 4get all abt them - too hooked on Xbox!

>Louis: So? Teach them about charity and donation when the time comes.

>Liam: Ugh. 1 day ur going 2 make me look like a bad father

>Louis: Not likely to happen if I'm not interested in dating. Teaching you is my outlet.

>Liam: Hmm. We got 2 talk about that sometime :| Gotta go tho, talk to you later

>Louis: Good luck with Charlie xx

Once he'd ended the conversation with Liam, he scrolled down to Harry's name. No doubt Harry would be asleep right now but he wanted to be the first one to share the hilarious news before anyone else got a chance. _**You'll never guess who you're apparently dating now! Check this out.**_ He attached a snapshot of the article.Barely two minutes later, his phone buzzed. _OH MY GOD O_O hahahaha!!!_

Surprised, because why on earth was Harry up right now - surely it was, like, 4am or something there - Louis responded with, _**Wasn't expecting a reply so fast. Shouldn't you be asleep?**_ _Night shoot :(_ _I guess someone at the Daily Fail didn't do their homework lol._ _**Well, if it's true, and you are dating your sister, they missed the story of a lifetime!!**_ _Can see it now_ : _Insatiable Styles turns to incest for sexual thrills! #Vomit_ _**I think if that came out you could finally sue for libel :P.**_ _Wouldn't lower myself to engage with them._ _Can't wait to show this to gemma tho. She'll probably wet herself_. _**She enjoying her holiday?**_ _Too much I think - rum punch hangover every morning._ _**Eh, you only live once.** **When do you finish up the scene?** About another hour I think._ _Got the rest of the day off woohoo!_ _**Awesome! You up for a quick skype about 3 / 4 pm? That give you enough time to sleep?**_ _Yeah plenty, whichever time suits you :) **Ok, see you then x** Cool, have a good day at work xx_

~*~

Like every other time he had had a DPD with a lady, Louis knew he would have to offer up all the details to Perrie for mocking. That's the problem when your lab partner is your best friend's fiancée - who's privy not only to your disinterest in dating but also to the problem of having to keep it quiet so as to avoid speculation. Of course, techically he didn't have to indulge her at all. Even though she was a friend, he didn't _have_ to tell her anything about his private life. After all, she was the one who ran a secret blog about him behind his back. _Okay_ , so it was nothing too creepy - just her mainly killing rumours or correcting incorrect assumptions people made. Plus she did it with good intentions; always trying to protect his reputation and image from the savage dogs of the media and the gullible public. He really didn't mind, and, in all honesty, he took advantage of her online influence - feeding her titbits of the deliberate kind to spread the right kind of image he wanted. For, as uncomfortable as the situation was, Perrie was one of the few who stuck up for him in the face of the crap the media spewed on a daily basis.

Of course he'd never let on that he knew about the blog. If she knew _he_ knew of her exploits she would be mortified beyond reckoning and the subsequent awkwardness would ruin their colleagueship and friendship forever. As she was also the fiancée of his best friend a falling out would set off a whole new host of problems which would likely ruin a lot more than pride. It was, therefore, imperative she didn't learn of his awareness, especially because it would mean _he,_ himself, would have to take an interest in monitoring what the media was writing about him once more. Considering his previous actions, after one particularly ugly insinuation by The Sun, getting involved with the media over his image was something everyone ought to avoid. To this day, The Sun _still_ didn't know who had hacked into their discretionary account eight years ago and transferred a million pounds to the RSPCC. As that account was mainly used for their under-the-cloak business transactions, i.e. to pay informants, whistle-blowers, fabulists etc., it wasn't exactly surprising nothing was ever mentioned publicly about the missing sum. He was also pretty sure the money was never redeemed seeing as it was donated to a charity and someone associated to the RSPCC would have raised a stink if it was retracted.

" _So_..." Perry began, too offhand to be genuinely offhand.

Louis hummed in her direction to indicate he was listening, all the while smirking knowingly down into his work. "How was your date with Miss-Horse-Thighs-of-the-Year?"

 _Ouch_ , he thought, with a grimace of guilt towards the woman at the centre of the topic; _that was kind of harsh, Pez_. Then again, Perrie had never been prone to politeness when it came to discussing fellow women of the unearned upper-class. It was probably a bi-product of her ultra working-class roots where, in his own experience, some jealous attitudes declared wealth was physical greed and that the rich were elitist, lalalalala, tax-avoiders. Not that some of the aristocracy were any better with their attitudes; looking down on the poor as being drugged-up benefit cheats. Of course, it was usually only a handful of each social standing that had these poor attitudes but they were the ones that got the rest stereotyped. Louis had had the misfortune of being born into an awkward family dynamic where he was subject to both the British Elite and the Lower-Middleclass on a frequent basis. As such, he tried to steer clear of voicing any political views which might suggest he favoured one over the other. However, considering his recent absence within one side of his family, there was a chance he was currently more sympathetic towards the Elite.

"It was..." Louis struggled to find a delicate way of answering her question, " _uneventful_ ," he decided. And there it was; the question and answer they had been building towards for the last hour. Truth be told, Louis felt a little guilty at not having anything more positive to say about the dinner and subsequent company, but, in all honesty, that really was him being kind to Lady Lorena Swinton-Charles. It had been a toe-curlingly awkward and boring evening - one he would definitely not be repeating, even if it would sweeten her father even more into finalising the business deal with his grandfather.

"So, in other words, she bored your tits off," Perrie rephrased, sounding more than a little amused at his misfortune. "Let me guess, all she talked about were her horses?" There was an irritating chuckle to her voice, as though she took humour in his suffering. If he didn't know her as well as he did in order to realise this was just her way to lighten the mood, he might have taken offence.

"On the contrary," he replied, holding a resistor steady in one hand while he reached for a pin with the other. "She tried so hard to talk about anything _but_ horses that if she had actually talked about them it might have saved the evening."

"Wow," Perrie rasped, with no small hint of mocking, "her banter was _that_ bad? I mean, we've only made small talk in the past and she was okay at that but... wow."

It had been bad. It had been _really_ bad. Louis's insides curled up as he thought back to the only topic that had led to a small conversation rather than a monosyllabic answer; conservatories. Two minutes of painfully stilted conversation over conservatories. Louis didn't even own a conservatory! His Nan had had one and it had always stunk of dead plants and cremated flies, hence why he had never ventured down that route in later life. So, to sum up the night: Conservatories; the extent of the evening's conversation.

"I had to call it quits before dessert," he admitted, still mourning the missed orange pudding. Perrie was well-versed as to the significance of him missing dessert and she spun around in her chair in surprise. "Wow," she croaked, suddenly less mocking and more sympathetic, "it was _that_ bad, then. Blimey... I'm sorry, Lou." Her sentiments held more than one significant meaning, which made his stomach tighten. The silent understanding between them was that they both knew Louis _didn't_ _want_ to be disinterested in relationships and one of the reasons that he took part in DPDs with little fuss was due to his vague hope that maybe one of them might finally kick-start his 'interest' again. So far that hadn't happened and after seven years of trying, the likelihood of it ever happening was dwindling hopelessly.

Louis shrugged, trying to make the evening's failure seem less of a big deal. It had really only been a favour for the business anyway, not a personal date. Truth be told, he hadn't really been on a real date since he was twenty-two and as for sex... well that was even more depressingly farther in the past but for a good reason. "Well," he said, trying to keep it light, as much for his own sake as well as hers, "compared to staying in and spending an evening going over contracts with Willi _har_ d, it was a good night out."

Perrie snorted; she didn't like the guy any more than he did and she, too, would probably accept any night out as being better than spending time with him. Louis had his own reasons to dislike RLA's second in command - some professional, and other reasons personal, _very_ personal. Perrie's dislike of him was, as per everyone, initially borne by Willard's smug, punchable persona, but the man really hadn't helped himself, in her eyes, by deliberately over-looking her for the maternity cover position in Optics. Hiromi, the pregnant manager of the Optics team, had even recommended Perrie pre-advertisement, but Willi _har_ d had deliberately ignored her advice and made it external applicants only - probably because he didn't want another strong-minded woman at junior manager level challenging him. Willy was weak that way. Arsehole.

Louis's own reasons for hating the guy corresponded with that weakness; Willard was easily threatened and snivelling and conniving and way too smug for his own good. _And_ married to the eldest of his younger sisters. The mere reminder of that fact grated through his insides like claws against a chalkboard. Gritting his teeth, he gripped the screwdriver harder, wishing it was the twat's throat but alas.

"I just wish you would actually try to date properly," Perrie sighed. "You'll never fix whatever the problem is if you don't face it. I'm just terrified that you're actually set on asking your Grandfather to arrange a business marriage."

"Mmm," was all Louis could manage, internally groaning at somehow having steered the conversation back to this bloody topic. Maybe today he might be lucky and she wouldn't have a rant and he wouldn't be subjected to all the reasons he shouldn't do it...

"I mean," Perrie continued, and Louis slumped further in on himself with disappointment - nope, he was going to get the rant. "If my Dad told me that if I wasn't married by a certain age I wouldn't get the family business, I would tell him where to go, get engaged to someone he really hated and then invoice him for the most lavish wedding I could think of!"

"Zayn hates lavish," Louis mumbled mulishly as he carefully lowered the next resistor into position. It wasn't really meant to be a dig. For the most part, Zayn had been supportive of Perrie's fulsome wedding plans. However, it was clear to Louis that, if given free rein, Zayn would cut the plans down by a third. He had always liked things simple and meaningful. That was just Zayn.

Perrie sniffed but decided to ignore his comment, instead typing inputs into the mainframe at a speed which beggared disbelief.

"Also," Louis added, "it's not my Grandfather who wants me to be married before I take over the business, it's the shareholders. And they are not saying I _have_ to be married or I don't get the business either. All they've said is that they would feel more secure about the future of the company being in my hands if they knew in advance who would be taking over my current shareholder percentage. The majority of the shareholders are extended family and you know how fussy family can be about family things. At least with an arranged marriage I would be guaranteed a spouse they would mostly all approve of."

"But it's the twenty-first century, who actually has an arranged marriage these days anyway?" she huffed. "I mean, isn't it... like... illegal in Britain?"

Louis couldn't help but snort as he reached for the solder iron. Sometimes the level of unawareness displayed by his fellow man was too amusing to take seriously. "You're confusing 'arranged marriage' with 'forced marriage,' Pez," he chuckled, trying not to sound unkind. "I'm not a minor nor am I being held at gunpoint - I am a consenting adult who may consider granting permission to my immediate family to find me a spouse. Also, arranged marriages are not exactly uncommon in the world. Surely Zayn has taught you that? I mean, several of his family have had arranged marriages - you even went to one of the ceremonies! It's the norm in Eastern culture and it's still relatively common in the West amongst aristocratic families." He calmly reached for another resistor and clamped it firmly between the tweezers.

"Why do you even consider getting to get married if you don't want to, though?" she pressed. "There's no shame in being single. Why not just remain unattached if a relationship isn't what you want? Like you just said, nobody is forcing you to marry off and if you don't marry then nobody will have to worry about who you'd be introducing into the business." In his peripheral Louis could see Perrie had finally swivelled around, no doubt sprouting some overly-dramatic 'I'm so concerned about your welfare' look of pity. Inwardly he groaned; this conversation always went round and round in circles. Perrie could never seem to accept what he told her, no matter how he worded it. "Unlike your Great Grandmother," she pressed on, "your grandfather has never pushed you into marrying strategically. He wants to give you the chance he never had to pick a partner you have a real connection with. But you haven't even tried to find some natural romance. Not once. Not since..."

Louis looked up sharply, silently warning her not to go there. She closed her mouth quickly but continued to stare at him with the same level of frustration.

"Look," he sighed, lowering the grippers. He was desperate to find a peaceable end to this conversation. "These are my final words on the matter and then we drop it altogether, okay? I'll continue to be the one to worry about the motives behind my decisions and you just stick to mocking my bad PR stunts. Yeah?" He waited until she nodded hesitantly, her ice blond pony tail bouncing. He took a deep breath and admitted, "Okay. _Yes_ , you're right. I currently have no real desire to marry and haven't had for a long time. Right now I would happily remain single for the rest of my life. However, I know that once I take over from my Grandfather my professional life will benefit to have a spouse. I am the only direct heir to this company and I want - _I_ want - to keep the business in the family as much as the shareholders do. The only way I will be comfortable in providing that is if I marry someone with nieces or nephews and maintain an 'in name only' kind of marriage. There are hundreds of those in the business world and many of them are successful." He sighed deeply, "Like I've told Zayn a billion times, I long ago lost interest in what _you_ deem a 'proper' marriage. Around that same time I also lost interest in the fairytale love that you and so many others fantasise about. Life isn't like the movies. A marriage needs more than desire and romance to last the test of time. It's about commitment, stability, common interest, compatibility, trust, honesty, respect, and loyalty. In other words, it's a bit like a business deal; if you both hold up your end of the contract then the longer the partnership continues, the stronger it becomes. I don't need desire and romance or sex to offer someone all those qualities or to commit myself to that kind of contract. What I need is someone who will return those qualities without a hidden agenda. I am almost thirty and am heir to not only a multi-million pound company but to a peerage too. There are a lot of people who would like to take advantage of that." Perrie made to interrupt but Louis cut across her, voice firm. "I know there are a lot of women who would go to great extents to exploit a marriage with me in order to gain influence in society. My problem is..." he swallowed thickly, "I'm not a great judge of character and am afraid of putting the company or my family in disrepute by picking an unsuitable candidate. That is why, if I do pursue an arranged marriage, I would ask for my Grandfather's help in choosing. He has extensive experience with the company, the peerage, and arranged marriage itself - therefore, it's only logical I should utilise that experience to the fullest extent. He also knows me pretty well and will choose candidates to match me on a personal level. And, at the end of the day, it's not like I won't get a choice as to who my spouse would eventually be. He would come up with some suitable candidates, I would meet them and pick the one I find suits me best. We would get to know each other for a few months first - make sure we're happy - then draw up a pre-nup and, if we're both satisfied, tie the knot. I wouldn't marry someone I didn't at least like."

Perrie let out a long breath and shook her head, turning away, "I just don't think that's a very healthy way of going about marriage."

"And I don't think going into marriage with 'love goggles' on is very healthy either. In England the norm is to marry for love and, currently, 41% of marriages end in divorce. We'll just have to agree to disagree over what's the healthy approach." Louis picked up the solder iron. "Anyway, this is all subjective and pointless talk. It's most likely that I will not pursue marriage at all and leave the company to Willard's demon spawn - if he ends up having any, that is."

"It's your life." Perrie sighed. "If an arranged marriage is really what you truly want then I will support you, but I can't help but worry you'll regret it if you do go through with it." She glanced back over her shoulder. "Are you about done with that board?"

While that last question sounded innocent enough, Louis knew it was a poorly hidden hint to hurry it up rather than a casual enquiry into his progress. But that was Perrie Edwards for you; passive aggressive right down to the necessities.

"The system is almost at maximum heat capacity," she added, proving his suspicions correct.

"Nearly there..." he mumbled, tongue poking out as he concentrated on keeping the solder iron completely steady around the awkwardly-shaped gas chamber. The problem with making last minute adjustments to axillary boards in close proximity of the powered up main board was that one little spark could cause a short circuit and set the laser off. Anything in the un-mirrored laser's path would then be fried, including flesh. Unfortunately, to make the adjustments without the power running - which would be a lot safer all round - was too time-consuming, ultimately more inaccurate and not very cost effective. So... 'carefully does it' was the key right now - KNOCKITY KNOCK KNOCK!

Louis leapt about a foot in the air, keening in surprise, and his knees knockrd against the underside of the work bench. There was an instant deafening _crack_ , a flash of brilliant red and the whole room plunged into blackness. "Ow, fudging fudge _fudge_!" Louis yelped as his pinky seared with pain and he automatically stumbled backwards out of danger, inadvertently causing something behind him to crash to the floor and shatter.

Through the ringing silence that befell the smash, Perrie's dry plea sounded extra wary in the darkness, "Please, _please_ tell me you still have all your fingers this time?"

Shakily, Louis reached out and groped his right hand. After his last accident with a laser, his little finger was already a centimetre shorter than it should have been. Perrie had yet to stop complaining about the trauma. She had been the one to fish the severed tip out of the circuitry while Louis had flapped around in a panic. He couldn't exactly blame her for being upset, the stench of burnt flesh was not one you forgot in a hurry.

Bracing himself for the feeling of oozing raw flesh, Louis tentatively ran his thumb over the appendage. No dampness, _thank the lord_ ; just the burning prickle of skin sliding against singed skin. He sighed in relief, hospital trip averted. "I'm okay," he told her shakily. "Just a graze. _Shit_. That was _close_."

"You're telling me," Perrie gritted out, "I don't think the customer would appreciate finding one of your digits in their surgery equipment."

"Well," Louis grinned into the darkness, gunned for the unexpected pun, "they did ask for its display to be _digital_."

" _Hilarious_ ," Perrie drawled, ensuring her tone suggested it was anything but. "What was it that shattered anyway? It better not have been that new infrared bulb. Jones is already threatening to put us on a cap if we break any more."

"Not sure..." Louis admitted, freezing on the spot as he remembered he was wearing Toms today and they wouldn't exactly protect him if he accidentally stood on broken glass. "I'd, uh... stay over there until the lights come back on, just to be safe," he advised. "Shouldn't be too long before someone resets the breaker anyway. No doubt they're all going mental." He glanced warily in the direction of the door, expecting someone to come crashing in, swearing up a storm. Louis was, unfortunately, one of the worst culprits for blowing the circuit breakers. Once was funny, twice was mockable, but three times in a month started to grate on people's nerves. This would be Louis' fifth offence. "But it's not like it's really my fault this time," he added defensively. "I mean, who the fuck was stupid enough to knock while we were working anyway? The sign is there for a reason. They should know better than to interrupt - it's bloody dangerous!"

The sudden return of the lights was blinding and a little disorientating - Louis screwed his eyes shut, feeling momentarily dizzy from the overhead assault. Around them the machines began to whirr as they came back online - thankfully masking the faint ringing in his ears. He probably ought to have invested in some ear protectors by now. While not excessive, the noise level in the lab was probably a little harmful to his long-term hearing.

It took a few seconds for his eyes to readjust and, as he started to take stock of the mess, there was a quiet knock and the lab door opened tentatively. Louis looked up with a glower, knowing by the hesitant enter that this was the culprit. He was just about to give the idiot a right tongue-lashing when Liam's sheepish face peered around the door jamb. The bollocking died on Louis' tongue. Yelling at Liam was like yelling at a puppy; in the end the guilt made you feel worse than the initial anger.

"I'm so sorry," Liam apologised, pointing up at the doorway, "your red light wasn't on so I thought it would be okay to knock."

Ahh... _shit_. Perrie glared over at Louis and Louis glared right back at her - she was as capable of switching on the 'Lab In Use - Do Not Interrupt' sign as he was. _Damn it_. There was nothing they could do now, though, except take stock of the cost of their error.

"No damage I hope?" Liam piped nervously, gesturing to the work bench.

Louis looked down at his pinky; in the restored light he could see the tip was a bit red but was, otherwise, intact. Definitely just a friction burn then - _thank god_. Hospitals were hideous places at the best of times let alone during a flu epidemic.

Stepping forward, he peered hesitantly down at the circuit board he'd been working on and winced. One of the capacitors had been melted by the beam and now lay in a sorry steaming grey puddle over several of the surrounding components. Luckily the board was pretty generic and wouldn't be too hard to replace but... still... it would take at least a day to get a new one printed off and installed. _Damn it!_ He had been nearly finished too.

Remembering the shattered item, Louis looked behind him and saw, not glass, but the broken shards of his favourite mug littered across the floor amid small puddles of black tea. A fierce lump grew in his throat as he stared at the broken remains of red ceramic. It may have been a humorous little leaving present from his favourite Physics teacher back in High School but it had had sentiment beyond measure. Mr McAlpine had been brilliant, absolutely _brilliant_ , in both a professional capacity and personal. He had been completely squandered as a teacher, or so Louis had always thought with a pang of sadness. 

A short, funny old man, McAlpine had had a wit that kept classes spellbound - no matter how dry the subject... and _energy efficiency_ could get very dry indeed. The man, not known for  favouritism, had, for reasons unknown, taken Louis under his wing in Louis' very first year at the high school. There, he had redirected Louis' amassing trouble-making energies into something a little more productive and thus stopped Louis from becoming his own worst enemy. Louis would never deny he had been on a dangerously sloping path at the time - succumbing like a cliché to the common rebellious pre-teen disinterest in institution and studying. Although, he felt it was less his fault and more of his parents - which was a wound that was still not fully healed.

It had been upon his Great Grandmother's insistence (and by her own finance) that he had been sent to the private St James' Juniors school from the age of 5 till he was 9. As it was located in London, he had lived with his Nan and Grandfather Austin in their Mary Poppins-style Kensington house during term time. He had absolutely loved it at St James' and had thrived; growing into a smart and sweet-natured kid with a yet funny, mischievous streak that amused everyone he met. But then his parents had pulled him out of St James' in Year 5, forcing him to attend the local comprehensive in Doncaster instead - to learn proper life skills and monetary appreciation or some crap like that. There, in that blackhole of aspiration and responsibility, he had fallen into delinquency.

Initially furious with his parents for taking him away from Zayn and his other friends at St James', his anger had driven him to rebel at the early age of ten. With that rebellion came the fall into smoking, drinking, fighting, and petty theft. He hung around with the wrong older crowd, who found corrupting such a young kid a right old hoot, and his attitude devolved into something completely unrecognisable from his previous self - built mainly from the walls he'd had to build to protect his soft, flamboyant self from the intolerance he was surrounded with. By the age of twelve and with a sarcastic tongue, inherent laziness, contrary attitude, short temper, and easily influenced sense of right and wrong, Louis had become the poster child for potential young offender and/or wastrel. It was after being caught stealing fags from the off-licence on Thorne Road that his Great Grandmother had waded in once again. He wasn't privy to the conversation but was pretty sure she had threatened to take them to court over custody of him if they didn't let him return to London at once. For whatever reason, his parents relented and this sparked a new anger in Louis, borne of rejection and bitterness that they had reduced him to this for no reason. 

So Louis was shipped back to London, to St James' Senior Boys school this time, but it took a long while for the damage to be undone. At first he was apathetic to everything and unwilling to cooperate with his teachers. His classmates had all already known each other for a year so it wasn't easy for him to fit in with them either. Zayn (who was delighted with his return) and a new friend Liam were the only ones to tolerate his presence at first. His nervousness at attending a new school, despite already knowing a lot of them from St J Juniors, was expressed by the hefty use of sarcasm and mockery, something his classmates found hard to excuse and tolerate. But then McAlpine, a knight in a stained lab coat, took Louis under his wing in the physics department. Whether it was because he saw him sitting alone one lunch time and felt sorry for him or because Louis had shown great aptitude in class, Louis was never sure on the initial reason. The important point was, McAlpine created a break-time assistant position in the lab and, by giving Louis enough responsibility to distract him from his issues, had helped Louis settle in to the school and, more importantly, back into his own skin. Over several months, and in conjunction with McAlpine's inordinate kindness and humour, Louis had lost much of his apathetic attitude and regained confidence in letting out his true flamboyant and gentle personality. Or, as Zayn had jokingly put it, had amassed a complete attitude transplant. So... yeah... Mr McAlpine had brought Louis back from probable self destruction and the gift mug, as silly as it was, had been a constant reminder of that ever since.

Even after Louis had left school for Oxford University, McAlpine had still kept in touch with him on Facebook. He'd even gone to see Louis graduate and was the person who had inspired his exceptionally successful research project into blood clot laser treatment. Sadly, McAlpine had died a few months before Louis had received his PhD in Biomedical Engineering and he got the chance to see him fully transcend from being Louis Tomlinson, potential failure as a person, to Dr. Louis Tomlinson, expert in engineering laser-based medical equipment for the most influential entities across the world. So to say the silly little red cup had some personal meaning was a bit of an understatement.

As he stared at the mess of pottery, his eyes stung with distraught tears.

"Oh Lou," Perrie whispered, her usual scathing overtones absent as she realised the extent of the breakage.

Louis swallowed hard and squared his shoulders, swallowing back the lump in his throat with determination. He would be damned if he would allow himself to get emotional in front of his work colleagues, especially over a... a... _trinket_. He had enough problems fitting in here, what with being the boss's grandson and heir to the multi-million pound family business, without becoming further fodder for the watercooler by crying over a cup. Even as he thought this, though, his eyes welled up further.

"What... what was it you wanted Liam?" he choked out, forcing himself to look away from the mess.

"I... uh..." Liam stuttered, looking as equally horrified at the broken mug as Perrie because he also knew its true value, "Lord Austin wants to see you in his office."

Louis raised an eyebrow; it wasn't often his Grandfather summoned him, or anyone else for that matter, to the office between ten and three. Rule of thumb was the two hours either side of lunch were client time unless something needed his urgent attention or a meeting was pre-planned in the books.

"Right now?" Louis checked, glancing at the clock. It was ten forty two.

Liam nodded earnestly, "He said it's very _important_."

Louis sighed and glanced back at the still smouldering chip board. He longed to sort it out before the molten capacitor caused any further damage... but it would have to remain as it was for now. Nobody kept Robert Austin waiting - not even his own grandson. "Okay," he muttered, grabbing his ID badge from the worktop and clipping it to the breast pocket of his lab coat. "Let's go see what the old man wants."

Liam nodded and scurried out, probably eager to assure everyone that the blackout was his fault and not Louis'. He was earnest and honest like that.

"I'll _tidy_ up," Perrie offered meaningfully, as Louis trudged towards the door. Turning back he shot her a small smile of gratitude. While usually a sarcastic, contrary blabber mouth, Perrie could be very compassionate when things mattered, and he really didn't think he could face picking up the pieces of the broken mug just yet... or ever.

"Thanks," he croaked. "Oh, and Pez? If you could keep our earlier conversation between us I'd be very grateful. I don't begrudge you discussing it with Zayn, couples shouldn't keep secrets, but I don't want everyone in here debating my life choices over lunch in the staffroom and then peddling me their tuppence opinions." He wasn't being unnecessarily harsh; Perrie would be the first to admit she was terrible when it came to spreading gossip. A solid boundary was good for them both.

"Sure," said Perry and she gave him a soft, slightly sad smile as she nodded the affirmative. "No problem, love."

~*~

Liam, as he'd expected, was placating a few frazzled technicians in the main lab. They still shot Louis some suspicious glares though, as he walked past, but they didn't say anything. He hurried his pace until he was in the safety of the corridor, not wanting to get waylaid by a request or an errant consultation. Quick words had a terrible habit of turning into hour long discussions around here. He greeted a junior assistant he recognised from the second floor witha smile as they passed and quickly headed for the stairs.

RLA's management offices were on the fifth floor and, inversely to the lab levels, practically all glass and light. Television wasn't wrong; in the corporate world an office with a view was much to be admired. It showed status, both for the company and the individual that owned it. That's not to say anyone working in the labs were mere grunt staff. Some of the highest paid and most respected physicists in the UK were employed by RLA. _That's_ why the company had such a good reputation.

The lab levels (1-4) had all their rooms squared in the middle of the building with the stairs as a perimeter. This meant none of the labs had actual windows - although some did have glass walls, which let in light from the windowed hallway. This setup was necessary as much of their lab work required controlled light levels. However, the lack of natural sunlight did get to the workers after a while. Many of the lab workers found frequent (and trivial) reasons to travel between floors just to get a bit of daylight on the journey up and down. Robert Austin had also allowed them to install benches in the outer corridors so that workers could enjoy lunch and coffee breaks while looking at the view. He also encouraged his staff to take vitamin D supplements and regular exercise - both at the company's expense.

Unlike the labs, the offices almost got too much natural light with their floor to ceiling windows. Also unlike the labs, the offices ran along the window perimeter and left a large expanse of floor in the middle - bar the central elevator - free for a collection of displays and plinths to showcase some of their most successful designs (perfectly situated for clients to eyeball before a meeting). Nothing like a little free self-promotion to get the clients inspired. It was also a good area to hold small launch and corporate parties. Louis' grandfather had even had a small bar installed next to the conference room for such events.

As he climbed the stairs between the fourth and fifth floor, Louis couldn't help but look out of the windows into the blinding radiance of yet another sunny winter's day. The old white limestone buildings of north London seemed to glow white hot in the brilliant light - just like the modern glass high rises and the two hundred odd metres of lapping water in between. No matter how cold, a sunny day never failed to make Louis feel just that little bit perkier.

Almost at the top, he passed through a stream of direct sunlight and had to momentarily pause to enjoy its warmth on his face. Working 9-5 Monday to Friday in good old Blighty left him, like so many others, starving for the sun. Moving up to the next step, Louis leaned over the banister to stare out at the city around him. From their neat little spot in Southwark, the view offered was an unobstructed glance across the river Thames towards Customs House and the NS Building. To the right sat the grey visage of HMS Belfast, anchored at The Queen's Walk, and beyond that lay the majestic bascules of Tower Bridge. To the left stood London Bridge and the two Wren-style towers of Cannon Street Station. It was all pretty impressive and Louis was reminded just how blessed he was to be in a position to afford this kind of view. It's only when you've been stuck in a dingy 1940s monstrosity that you truly appreciated a new building with a view. Regardless of their job within the company, _everyone_ had been pleased with the move to this 'built for purpose' tower block six years ago. And, unlike 85 percent of the staff, Louis not only had a lab but also a _proper_ office too - right here on the fifth floor, right at the top of these stairs. It was, technically, a given since he was (again, _technically_ ) third in command as Managing Director of RLA Enterprises - although, he still spent most of his time working on the factory floor. It wasn't a choice borne of dislike for the office itself. The room was bright, airy and modern, with amazing views south east of the river which often held him mesmerised, especially at night. His huge black glass desk was fully fit for purpose and the hidden filing units built into the wall made sure the look remained minimalist and spacey. To top it off his name, 'Hon. Louis Tomlinson - Managing Director,' was gilded onto the glass office door. Yes, there was no denying it was a lovely office, but what put him off spending more time there was the paperwork. He loathed paperwork with a fervent passion so he tried to only spend, at most, two hours a day doing it unless there was a report to draft or a proposal to be collated for a client.

There was, of course, one other influencing factor for Louis to avoid office time... that being Willi _hard_. And now he made sure, as he walked past the wanker's office, to hold up a middle finger, knowing it would be seen and returned. Yeah, the arsehole might be his brother-in-law and (technically) his superior (for now) but that didn't mean Louis had to like the cockpiece. Nor did it mean _Willard_ had to like him either, which he didn't, not at all as the returned finger reiterated - bastard didn't even pause in his phone conversation to look properly.

Amanda, his Grandfather's secretary, was, as usual, sitting behind her desk talking politely on the phone. Today her mane of sleek black hair was tied up in a high ponytail and her deep cut blouse showed a healthy amount of naturally deep brown cleavage. If she wasn't married and almost ten years his senior, Louis would probably add her to his marriage candidate list. For not only was she drop-dead gorgeous but she was really sweet and intelligent to boot - totally his type back when he had romantic interests. Louis sighed wistfully and knocked on the archway wall to announce his presence, not wanting to disturb her phone call by talking out loud. The moment Amanda looked up from her computer, she smiled and pointed towards his Grandfather's office, mouthing, "Just go right in, he's expecting you."

He mouthed back _thank you_ , before heading for the adjoining office. Out of sheer manners he knocked on the frosted glass before opening the door. His Grandfather looked up sharply and the usual smile of welcome was slower to appear than normal. There was also a prominent wrinkle of tension locking up his brow which immediately had Louis's jubilant greeting dying on his tongue. Instantly on guard, he glanced about the desk for any hint as to what this summons could be about or what had his Grandfather vexed. "Hi, you wanted to see me?"

Robert nodded. "Yes. Good morning Louis, come on in and take a seat." He waved to the leather chairs in front on his desk. "How's the Linfield project shaping up?"

"Halfway through building the prototype," Louis replied warily, taking a seat. "Had a slight glitch with one of the circuit boards earlier, but hopefully we'll have it finished by tomorrow afternoon for some running tests."

"Excellent, if all goes well then this should prove to be a turning point in the market."

"And also a medical breakthrough that will hopefully save a lot of lives," Louis admonished quietly.

"Indeed," his Grandfather conceded, pride flaring up in his eyes. "Always important to remember the human factors involved."

Louis nodded and sat back in the chair, "So, what is it you wanted to talk to me about? I assume it isn't just for some small chat over the project."

"No, you're right," Robert sighed, opening up the top drawer of his desk. The weariness made him look a decade older than his sixty eight years and Louis' heart sunk further. This wasn't a good sign at all. "Normally I wouldn't do this here but I will be leaving for a conference in France this afternoon, as you know." He pulled out an envelope, which looked remarkably like the wedding invitation he'd received from Cole and Amelia the other day. For a moment he was terrified it was that very invitation because his Grandfather would assume that it having both Harry's and his name on would mean something. "As much as I hate putting you in this situation at work, I didn't think I ought to leave giving it to you until I came back. Who knows who you could talk to between then and now." He put the envelope flat on the desk. "It arrived at our house yesterday - unfortunately, as it was mixed with the rest of my post, I opened it without realising it was for you. I sincerely apologise." He gingerly pushed the letter across the polished wood towards Louis. "I admit I was in two minds over whether or not I should even give it to you... but... you're a grown man, Louis, and you can make your own decisions." He let go of the letter and sat back. "I'm not a man of impulsive whims but I wholeheartedly feel you should burn it."

Louis' eyes widened and he took the envelope hesitantly. What the hell had come in the post that his Grandfather felt he should burn? His heart stopped as he took in the familiar handwriting on the front. Oh god... what the hell did _she_ want?


	3. Chapter 2

Louis was beyond furious. He was so mad he was actually trembling. For a long ten minutes he sat in his office trying to calm himself down enough to think straight. It wasn't working very well because he kept leaping to his feet with every crescendo of throbbing rage. He wanted to scream or cry or violently kick something – anything to dissolve the pressure of the anger. It was practically vibrating his nerves from his feet to his hands – hot, pulsing and ugly. The crumbed card in front of him sent a spike of resentment down his spine every time he caught sight of it. He wanted to shred it... no, he wanted to burn it... hell, if he thought he could get away with it he would take it right back to the sender and piss on it in front of her. How _dare_ she do this to him... how dare she act so... so... _calm_ and... and proper - like nothing of note had ever happened between them. Like... what she had done was water under the bridge.

"Louis?"

His head snapped up and he saw Perrie hovering in the doorway, "Oh... hey," he managed to grit out.

"Hi," she stepped forth uncertainly, a few papers clutched in her hand. "Sorry, I thought you might want these re-filed... are... are you okay?"

He snorted, flopped back in his chair and pointed at the card on the desk. "Not really. Look at what delight has just come in the post for me."

Uncertainly, she walked forward and peered down at the card. "Oh shit," she swore as she read the blurb. Her eyes snapped up to his, concerned. "Are you alright?"

"I'm bloody livid, is what I am," he ground out. "Of all the fucking nerve..." He closed his eyes and willed himself to breath slower. This was too much out the blue; he needed some fresh air... before he inadvertently told Perrie something she really ought not to know. "Look, I'm going to take off for my lunch early, okay? I need to speak to someone. If anyone calls, tell them I will be back in the office by half two at the latest."

"Okay," she replied faintly, clearly unsure whether she ought to do something else to help him or just let him go. Before she could decide, he grabbed his suit jacket and essentials from his drawer and stalked out of the room.

As soon as he was in the lift he pulled out his phone and texted Cole, the only one, bar his Grandfather, who knew the truth about what had really happened with El. **Need to talk. You up for lunch?** he typed out furiously. The reply came before he had even reached the ground floor. _Sure. What time?_ **Now?** Louis prayed his friend was available. Sure enough, _Ok! I'm @ Ians. Give me 15 & I'll meet u @ The Wallace?_  Ian, a close friend of Cole's in their regiment, lived in a flat near Montagu Square. Louis knew this, having been there a few times for parties. The Wallace Museum restaurant was but a ten minute walk away from there and was one of their regular eating spots if Amelia or Zayn had dragged them both shopping on Oxford Street. 

Letting out a long breath of relief, Louis replied, **Thanks mate. See you there in a few.**

It wasn't even a ten minute tube ride between London Bridge and Bond Street. Somewhere between stations the fury had dissipated - leaving him feeling drained and insulted. He huddled himself under his thick coat as he rode the escalator up onto street level; it was the kind of steamy cold today that made you feel feverish and restless. Pulling his coat tighter, Louis exited the station onto Oxford Street, crossed over the road, and nearly got bowled over by a young mum yapping loudly on her phone as she pushed her double buggy aggressively out of H&M. Ever the gentlemen, he muttered an apology even though it wasn't his fault and hurried on, taking a left down Duke Street. His walk took him past the bustling institution that was Selfridges and the series of well-known pubs frequented by the Oxford Street five o'clock finishers.

Manchester Square, at the end, was virtually deserted when he arrived; its tiny patch of park barren and bleak from the winter chill. In summer it was a haven for sunbathers and office workers looking for a bit of sun as they enjoyed their lunch. Today that image was all but a fantasy.

The Wallace Museum stood as solid and stately on the other side of the park as it had done for decades, beckoning wanderers in with the offer of free admission and art they would not be privileged to see anywhere else. Shivering, Louis hurried up the path and through the grand front door, nodding politely to the security guard who held it open for him. Normally Louis liked to spare the artwork a cursory glance out of respect, but today he was too focused on the morning's events.

Cole was already waiting at a quiet table in the far corner of the restaurant. He looked happy and relaxed - everything Louis wasn't. He sighed and walked over. Ever since it had opened, Louis had loved the simple elegance of this conservatory-style café. Today there was quite a bit of winter light shining through the glass ceiling but the waiters had switched on the surrounding lamps anyway, giving the place a cosy feeling. As it wasn't tourist season, the lunchtime crowd was a bit thin on the ground – perfect for Louis' mood and the subject they were about to discuss.

"So," said Cole, after Louis had settled down opposite him, sans coat and gloves and they had put in their orders with an unfamiliar waiter, "what's up? You seem tense."

Louis fished out the crumpled card and chucked it across the table unceremoniously, wishing it ill will as it skidded across the shiny surface. Cole picked it up and held it close to his face to read. _Save the date for the wedding of Eleanor and Richard! 31-01-2016_...

"What the hell?" he grunted, "Is this a joke?" Louis shrugged, trying to stamp down the stab of renewed fury worming its way up out of his stomach. Cole stared across at him in a mix of disbelief and disgust, his fingers flipping the card between them almost angrily, "and this came _definitely_ addressed to you? Not your family or your Great grandmother...?"

"Nope," Louis shook his head, wrinkling his nose as he caught a glimpse of the small sickly sweet picture of Eleanor and the Richard guy cuddling on some beach. "It was addressed to me in El's handwriting – only it was sent to my Grandparent's house. Evidently she hasn't found out where I live yet. Long may it continue."

Cole sat back in his chair, dumbfounded. "I don't even know what to say. This is... this is like the rudest example I've seen of rubbing salt in a weeping wound. What on earth is she playing at?" he wondered aloud, flicking the card over to see if there was anything on the back. It was blank. "Either she's touched in the head or playing some kind of sick joke..."

"Who knows?" Louis muttered. "Probably _both_ knowing her. What do you think I should do?"

"Burn it," Cole sniffed, "drop it down a drain or wipe your arse with it. Something that summates the shitty sentiment it was given with."

Louis hesitated, "You don't think I should go?"

Cole blanched, "Why would you even _want_ to go?!"

Swallowing thickly, Louis looked away towards the drinks counter where a waiter was loading a tea tray. "To warn the guy?" he mumbled; it had been the first thing that had crossed his mind the moment he'd read the card. Did the guy know what his wife-to-be was capable of?

There was a short uncomfortable pause and then, "Do you feel obligated to?" Cole asked quietly.

Louis watched the waiter start to walk towards them. "I don't know," he mumbled truthfully, "I mean, maybe she's changed and I would just be acting vengefully rather than with good intentions by saying something? Plus I wouldn't just be hurting her, but I would hurt this Richard guy too."

"Yeah," said Cole slowly, eyes narrowed, "I guess there's a good chance she's changed now that she's older but, then again, how would you feel if you met the guy in another seven years and found out she had done the same to him as to you and you had had the chance to warn him in advance?"

"I'd feel really guilty," Louis admitted and then groaned, balling his fists. "Ugh! What do I do?! What would _you_ do?"

For a long moment Cole didn't say anything, seemingly weighing the answer in his head. As Louis waited, the waiter placed the tea tray down on the table and poured them their first cups. Louis thanked him and helped himself to a spot of milk. Usually he preferred his tea without but often, in restaurants, they made the brew too strong to drink without something to take the edge off. "It's a tough call," Cole said eventually. "Do you potentially ruin a good relationship by putting distrust in Richard's eyes when he might not have anything to worry about or... do you give him the head's up so that he knows what to watch out for? Personally..." Louis inched a little closer, "I guess I wouldn't say anything. I think if El makes it to the wedding then it's probably a sign it's a legitimate relationship. It was pressure and commitment issues that supposedly drove her to treat you like she did. If she still has those issues then I don't see her making it to the wedding."

Louis let out a breath of relief. "That's a good point! _Thank God_." The thought of having to speak to either of them had filled him with so much dread he would have preferred volunteering to live with Willard for a month.

Cole laughed. "So that was the only reason you considered going? To warn the guy?"

"What other reason would I have?" Louis balked, wrinkling his nose. "Unless I went along for the sole purpose of throwing dog shit at the wedding car... which would probably be worryingly cathartic." They both laughed at the mental image. "Talking of weddings," Louis cleared his throat, "how is yours coming along?"

"Fine, I think," Cole shrugged, "it's not like I have much to do with the planning except to ensure my uniform is fully polished and that I turn up on time on the actual day. My mum and Amelia are in charge of everything."

"You don't want a say on anything? It's your wedding too," Louis pointed out, frowning at the almost careless way Cole had voiced his limited participation. Louis knew, if he were ever to get married, that he would be right in the thick of it with the details. "I can't imagine Amelia wouldn't let you be involved if you wanted to be," he added. "She's not a control freak like that. She's not that woman from _Friends_."

"But my mum _is_ ," Cole laughed, "and don't you pretend you don't know Monica's name. I've had to suffer through enough episodes of that program with you to know you're a huge fan. Have you forgotten I was right there when you blubbered over Chandler telling Monica he was in love after that stunt with Phoebe? Then again when they got engaged, and then again when they got married?" Louis was blushing hard; he was a soppy fool when it came to romance, so sue him! "As for my wedding," Cole continued, "I'm not really all that bothered with the minor details. All I care about is marrying my girl – the extra stuff is superfluous to me. She could turn up in a bin liner and I wouldn't care." They both sat back as their lunches arrived and thanked the waiter again for his service.

"Does Amelia know you call her that?" Louis couldn't help but tease. Somehow he didn't think Perrie would be too pleased if she heard Zayn calling her 'his girl'. Perrie and Amelia were quite alike – both strong, career-minded women, big on absolute equality.

"She doesn't mind," Cole chuckled, "it's really just a turn of phrase. She's my girl and I'm her guy. The meaning is acceptable so long as it's two sided and not taken to the extremes. Anyway, there's nothing wrong with a bit of possessiveness – it shows you care."

Louis pulled a face. "I'll take your word on it." It's not like he had much experience to draw his own opinion.

They dug in to their food and an easy silence fell – one built from having known each other since childhood. There were few people Louis felt truly comfortable with– people he could talk to about anything and sit in the longest silence without discomfit – and Cole was one of them. He seemed to just get when Louis needed a moment to think to himself.

"Feeling better now?" Cole eventually asked, breaking the silence once he'd finished his quiche and had started on his side-salad.

"Yeah," Louis nodded, then back-peddled a little as he felt a deep exhaustion creep up his spine. "Well... I feel calmer anyway."

"Good," said Cole with a small encouraging smile. "That's something at least."

"Yeah..." Louis sighed, "and thanks for this, mate... for indulging my dramatics. I just needed to get out of the office for a little while to process what had happened... and to cool my temper away from curious eyes. Poor Perrie probably thinks I'm having some kind of grief-stricken breakdown, rather than an indignant strop."

"I can imagine it was a pretty _livid_ strop," Cole chuckled before munching on another forkful of green leaves.

"Livid?" Louis cried, pushing away his finished potato salad. "I nearly punched a hole through my office door!"

"Hmm, I don't think your grandfather would have been too pleased about that."

Louis snorted, amusingly imagining his Grandfather's expression at being told they'd have to replace a £2000 bespoke door just because he had lost his temper. "No, I don't think he would have been either." He slumped back in his chair, leaning out of the light from above so his aching eyes could have a break. Cole looked at him sideways and paused. Louis suddenly knew he could see the circles under his eyes and the drawn pallor of his face much clearer than before. They were the signs of too much stress and this invitation was but the tip of the iceberg.   
"You okay, apart from this?" Cole asked, too casual to pull off casual. It was a growing trend between his friends.

"Tired," Louis admitted, "really tired. I only got a week off between Christmas and New Year." Cole nodded, knowing this already. "We had a lot of deadlines to meet in December." This Cole knew too. Louis had been dead on his feet by the time he'd finished up on the 23rd and had slept through half of the birthday dinner he, Amelia, and some of the others had held for him in celebration of his 29th. They hadn't taken offence to him napping through their efforts and had, instead, taken the opportunity to snap funny pictures of him with candles and streamers hanging out of various body orifices. "Then as soon as we were back in proper on the 5th it's been all systems go in lining up new contracts and projects and stuff. In fact, the books are already overflowing for the rest of the year. I don't even think I'll get a summer holiday at this rate, although that's probably because half my annual leave is taken up with getting suits fitted for weddings." He made sure to say the last bit with unmistakable teasing – he didn't want Cole worrying about adding to his stress.

"Yeah, sorry about that," Cole chuckled unapologetically, right as Louis's phone buzzed. It was Zayn saying he'd heard about the card and wanted to talk to him A.S.A.P. _Crikey_ , he thought, _Perrie moves fast_. He quickly typed back that he was with Cole and he was _fine_ , thank you very much. The phone buzzed again and this time it was Liam, followed almost instantly by Sophia, then Amelia, then Niall, and then Barbara – all in the space of five minutes. "Ugh," he groaned, banging his phone down on the table in frustration. "I should have known this would happen the moment I showed Perrie the card."

"They're just worried about you," Cole soothed.

"I know and I appreciate that," Louis groaned, "but I had plans to do other things this weekend besides placate friend after friend and convince them that I'm okay about my ex getting married. That, no, I'm not heartbroken and yes, contrary to popular belief I _am_ over her, but that doesn't mean I'm going to go."

Cole sighed as he speared the last piece of lettuce from his plate, "Have you thought about telling them the truth?"

"No," said Louis flatly, his insides twisting at the mere thought of it, "nothing has changed on that front."

"But then they would be off your back and you wouldn't have to spend so much time convincing them you're not lying and that you don't still harbour feelings for her."

"But, instead, I would have to spend all my time convincing them not to seek retribution on my behalf. Then there would be all the worry about how it's affected me long term and the mollycoddling would quadruple to the point I'd be driven insane. I don't think I could hack that, mate. Not with how much stress I've got at work. So _no_ ," he said firmly, "it's better for all that they don't know."

As he said it, he received a text from Stan. "God," he groaned, "it's gotten to Doncaster already. By the time I'm back at work even Harry will have heard."

Cole laughed, his brown eyes twinkling. "Talking of which, are you still missing him like crazy?"

Out of all their friends, Cole was probably the only one who understood just how much Louis had loved Harry living with him - even if it had been for an incredibly short period of time. While only vaguely knowing each other in primary school, what with Harry starting Year 1 when Louis was already in Year 3 then Louis leaving at the end of Year 4, if was only when Harry had started high school he and Louis had become close friends. 

It had started when they'd both been auditioning for parts in the Christmas play. Harry had tripped over his own two feet and had fallen off the stage into the orchestra - all while continuing to give an impassioned, if slightly muffled, delivery. Louis, who had been awaiting his turn in the audience, had just about wet himself laughing before going to help fish the lad out. With a similar sense of humour and bucket loads in common, they had immediately struck up a friendship. Ever since thay day, they had been the tightest of friends – remaining close even through Louis leaving Harry behind at school to go to Uni, Harry coming out as bisexual at sixteen and developing a major crush on Louis and then going to Uni himself. Things were a little less tight during the Eleanor years but then tightened up even more afterwards - to the point Louis had probably, sort of, fell in love with the guy. 

While he had moved into his own house in London and finished his PhD at the same time as beginning his career at RLA, Harry had begun hitting TV screens across the country and gaining some small-screen fame. Then, at 22, Harry got his first movie break and became an instant worldwide household name. It was then he'd moved to London too, buying a quiet little flat in Brixton – barely a 10 minute tube ride south from RLA. Although, truth be told, he had spent more time staying over at Louis or Niall's houses than at his own. 

As his career built, Harry had ended up flitting in and out of the country to film all the time - only coming home for a couple of months per year. In those months he spent so much of his free time everywhere else but his own flat – mostly Louis' spare room truth be told - that last December, before heading off for the US, he had decided to just sell it. Of course, after finishing the five month shoot in LA he had nowhere to come back to for the three months before he went on location for _Changing Horizons_ again. So Louis had offered him his guest room permanently. Cole and Zayn had been very dubious about it – worried about Harry's crush manifesting. Harry had assured them though, in a joking fashion, that there was nothing to worry about. Truth be told, Louis felt it was his own feelings they ought to be worried about. With the relationship issues he had, having anything more than a crush could be a potential disaster. However, Harry moving in turned out to be the best decision they'd ever made as Harry was the best houseguest in the world. Within the three months, Louis grew wonderfully accustomed to coming home at night to the house spotlessly tidy, the cupboards fully stocked and Harry half-way through making dinner. Most nights there was even a cup of tea either on brew or already awaiting on the table for him, and Harry was always eager to talk about their respective days. 

After dinner, which they'd often finish cooking together, they would sit around and watch TV or play Xbox or hang out at either Zayn or Cole's house. Sometimes they separated for the day/evening, but they would usually end up catching the last train home and meet up at Parsons Green for the short walk back to the house. It wasn't necessary that they wait for the other but it was something they just liked to do for their own peace of mind – especially if one of them was steamed beyond coherency.

In the house, had Harry always tidied up after himself and did more than his share of the chores – including washing Louis' laundry, which, Louis wasn't going to complain about. On weekends they had usually either gone out somewhere for the day and would catch dinner in the city or they would lounge around at home all day in their pjs. On those days, Louis usually ended up doing the cooking and he always made sure to cook something special.

There had been a few weekends where they had gone their separate ways completely but had always started off the day by having breakfast together - even if it meant one of them had to get up ridiculously early. It had been a lovely and easy and fun (and a potentially worryingly co-dependant) arrangement and Louis had utterly cherished the warmth Harry's presence had provided. In barely three months they had practically gone from best friends with secret-and-not-so-secret crushes on each other to platonic life partners. Therefore, the day Harry had flown off to Guadeloupe had been one of the hardest Louis had ever endured. Oh yes, there had been tears, lots of tears, and Louis had found himself feeling pretty lost and bereft for weeks afterwards. There is an overly-used saying about 'missing limbs' to describe such situations but Louis found it to be very true indeed. Clichés were clichés for a reason. Without Harry at home it just felt like something massive was missing from his life. The only thing that had cheered him up was the reminder that Harry would be back for Christmas. Of course, in the end, it didn't really happen but at the time he hadn't known that and the excitement of it, plus the constant contact, was enough to sustain him through the worst of his pining.

Louis felt himself flush under Cole's curious stare. "Honestly?" He cleared his throat. " _Yeah_ , I miss him a lot and the house still feels way too empty without him in it. Considering he only lived with me for three months during the summer, I must sound ridiculous."

"You don't sound ridiculous at all," Cole shrugged, although his growing smirk foretold some teasing. "It's understandable, mate. You two are like the most stereotypical old-married couple to have ever lived who were not even in a relationship." He chuckled again as Louis took a swipe at his shoulder in pouting protest. "I take it you still talk as regularly as ever?"

"Every couple of days," Louis admitted, "he keeps me up to date on what hilarious thing he's dropped or tripped over since the last time we spoke, and then I put him to sleep by talking about work and whatever crap the press have been spinning during the week. It's okay. We have a laugh... but it's not the same as actually having him here."

"Have you thought about popping out and visiting him? A week of tropical sun and some old-fashioned fun would probably do you a lot of good."

"I'd love to," Louis sighed, the thought having gone through his head many a time, "but I don't think I could take the time off work. There's just so much to do at the moment. Plus, it won't be that long before Harry comes back for your wedding. I can wait till then"

"True," Cole conceded with a smile, "but the end of March is still two months away. So keep the short holiday idea in mind and, if an opportunity to take a short break does arrive, I really encourage you to take it."

"I will," Louis nodded with a smile. Then his phone vibrated again, this time with an incoming call. "Oh god, who is this now?" He swiped the screen and then winced, "shit, it's GGM. Wonder what she wants?" He hesitated, thinking it might be safer to answer but then chickened out and let it go to voicemail.

"Anyone would think you don't like your Great Grandmother," Cole muttered dryly.

"She's a miserable old crow," Louis harrumphed, stabbing the last of his potatoes viciously, "who takes great pleasure in making people's lives a misery. She's like that Scrooge fellow but in a mean little wrinkly ninety-one year old body. You'd think she'd be harmless by now, but nope. I swear she just gets stronger with every year... like some kind of superbug."

"Fuck me, she's 91?!" Cole yelped. "To look at her you wouldn't put her over 75!"

"She'll outlive us all," Louis lamented darkly, "or at least until I get married, then she'll either die happy or have a stroke out of rage."

"Talking of which," Cole sat back, thoughtful, "have you had any further thoughts about an arranged marriage?"

"No," Louis shook his head, wincing at the reminder of his earlier conversation with Perrie. "I'm still not convinced that I'll be comfortable having a woman in my life, even in name only."

"Have you..." Cole winced and shook his head, "nah, never mind."

Louis looked over curiously. "No, go ahead," he encouraged before sipping on his tepid tea.

Cole sighed, "I was just wondering if you had ever thought about looking to the other team?"

It took a moment for the penny to drop and Louis choked on his tea. "What, me, with a _guy_?!" he spluttered, suddenly panicked that his crush on Harry had been too obvious.

"Is that such a crazy idea?" Cole asked calmly.

"Yes!" he said before he'd even thought it through.

"Why?"

Louis gaped at him and then wanted to shoot himself in the foot when he blurted out the first thing that came into his head, the wholly ridiculous lie of, "because I've never been attracted to another man!"

Cole didn't even blink, "But have you ever looked at one with potential interest in mind?" he pressed. "It's one thing to have no interest but a whole different thing to _assume_ you're not interested before even looking."

"I..." Louis faltered, because how did he argue with that kind of logic, especially without giving away the fact he already knew he could find men attractive? "I guess I've never looked but still... I... I..." he floundered uselessly.

"I'm not saying that you've been in denial or anything," said Cole quietly, clearly taking Louis's stuttering to be genuine shock at the idea, "all I'm saying is that you've clearly got an issue when it comes to intimacy. The question is, is it just women you've been put off of or could you find real interest in a man instead? You've talked about an open arranged marriage with a woman but what about a romantic marriage with a man? It's the twenty-first century, after all. However, if the answer is _no_ to the man, then I think you seriously have to consider therapy before going the open marriage route."

"I'm not going for therapy," Louis spat, "bloody useless claptrap and a waste of my time!"

"So... why not consider looking into the male thing?" Cole pressed gently, having anticipated the therapy rejection. "It can't hurt and you know none of us would ever have an issue with it. Plus, just imagine your Great Grandmother's face if you introduced a boyfriend to her at the dinner table."

Louis paused and then burst out laughing at the image, "Oh god, she would probably explode like a popped balloon. Almost worth it just for that!"

Cole smiled but then grimaced, "Just, uh, if you do decide to look into it, maybe don't tell Harry or use him as a guinea pig. It might get his hopes up and he might get really hurt if you discover men aren't for you after all."

Louis stopped laughing and swallowed hard. Hurting Harry by getting his hopes up was the reason he had never told Harry he thought he had a crush on him too. However, Cole had a point. He had assumed his intimacy issues would extend to males as well as females. Perhaps it wasn't true? After all, he had never actually checked... He looked up and saw Cole was watching him expectantly. Uh, had he asked a question? Shit! He scrambled around for something to say, "You think his crush is that that bad?" Louis instantly wanted to smack himself, of course Harry would be hurt if Louis experimented with another guy or, worse, experimented with Harry himself and then turned around and told him men weren't for him.

Cole looked at him consideringly. "I think you have the power to break his heart, so, please, do be careful."

"Alright..." Louis shifted uncomfortably, thinking now was a great time to steer away from that particular conversation, "anyway, thanks for lunch, it's just what I really needed, mate."

"A spot of lunch and a friendly ear?" Cole snorted, reaching out to knock knuckles with him, "not exactly a hardship, pal. Considering what you've done for me in the past," and Louis knew he was referring to the dark days after his first service in Gaza, "a bit of chat about relationships is nothing. Anytime. Anywhere."


	4. Chapter 3

FEBRUARY

"Is there anything you _really_ don't want to do?" Louis asked, lazily rolling his head to the side. He felt like he was floating on the ocean, so calm and spacey and happy. He smiled at the lampshape and then giggled, reaching out to pat it like it was a dog.

"No strippers," Zayn decided after a long moment of thought. He raised the spliff to his lips, dragged in a slow breath, held, then released the smoke towards the ceiling. If he was hoping to make smoke rings then he had failed, quite spectacularly.

The three of them, that being Zayn, Louis, and Perrie, were lounging in the couple's livingroom, loose-limbed and lazy from too much dinner, wine, and pot. Louis had been ready to head home after his last glass of Merlot but Perrie had reminded him about Harry's interview being released tonight. Then Zayn had produced his goody bag, dangling it in the air and waggling his eyebrows mischievously. After the long day at work, Louis was well in the mood to relax with a spliff or two so he had sat his arse back down on the sofa. Perrie put on the TV and while the boring part of the program played in the background, he and Zayn discussed the stag party. As the bestman, it fell to Louis to organise it but he wanted to make sure it was something Zayn would enjoy. So he started with the 'absolutely nots'.

"No pub crawls either," Zayn added. "I don't mind going to clubs but pub crawls are boring." He passed the spliff to Perrie, who took one draw and passed it back.

"Of course they're boring to _you_ ," Louis chuckled, "you don't sodding drink. But alright, I'll scratch that idea out." Considering drinking and strippers were two of the traditional elements for a Stag Party, he was going to have to pull an absolute miracle to make this event enjoyable for everyone. "By the way, anyone I shouldn't invite?"

"Ol-"

"Hey shh shh!" Perrie flapped her hand and nodded to the TV. "I think he's on."

Louis and Zayn quickly turned their attention to the TV where the female interviewer was gushing through her segue, "... was lucky enough to catch up with the star of the show himself, Mr Harry Styles!"

The scene cut to a beach-side restaurant surrounded by palm trees and envy-inducing views of tropical blue water. "Lucky bastard," Zayn grunted, taking once last hit before passing the spliff to Louis, "that ain't work, that's a fucking holiday."

Louis chuckled as the camera zoomed in on a table and there was Harry... tanned to hell and wearing the most god-awful Caribbean shirt Louis had ever seen. As per usual, he'd only done up the bottom few buttons, which was his classic _tits out_ _and proud_ look, complete with the usual dangling necklace ensemble that he thought made him look proper cool. Louis usually just cooed and patted his head, telling him he looked cute because Harry's pout at being considered something so docile was hilarious. This time, however, something panged hard in his chest and his amusement died on his lips. Harry had barely changed since leaving and Louis was reminded, again, how terribly much he missed him.

"Hello, Harry," the interviewer greeted brightly, "thanks for taking the time to talk to us. I know your schedule is pretty busy."

"No, _thank you_ ," replied Harry with his usual slow drawl. His eyes twinkled as he waggled his eyebrows, "you got me out of an afternoon chasing drug dealers through fields of sugar cane. It sounds like fun until you realise it's 32 degrees today - in the _shade_. So cheers for that," he raised his glass in toast, which was vibrant orange in colour and was crammed full of fruit, straws and umbrellas. Louis's mouth watered at the sight of it.

"Ah," the woman nodded sympathetically, "have you had trouble adjusting to the heat then? Megan and George said they have." Megan and George were Harry's new co-stars if Louis remembered correctly.

"A little," Harry admitted with the most ridiculous of pouts. He looked all of about four years old. Louis had to put his fist to his mouth to hide the fond grin threatening to split his face in half. What a ruddy, stupidly hot, goofball. "We're lucky to reach thirty in the height of summer back in England so this constant heat has been difficult to get used to. It kind of drains your energy after a while which can make long days of filming hard. It's also really easy to dehydrate."

"I noticed, when I was on set, there were trays of water bottles going around all the time..."

"Yeah," Harry nodded enthusiastically, "the producers are really good at making sure everyone is looked after. They have to otherwise we would never get anything done. You can't film a TV series if the cameramen keep suffering from heatstroke. That's why the filming schedule is so haphazard and long. Finding the energy to talk during the hottest part of the day is hard enough let alone trying to do something physical - that's why we do so much filming early in the morning or late afternoon."

"How early is early?"

"We're ready to roll film by sunrise," Harry admitted with a rueful grin that told everyone it wasn't as lovely as it sounded. "That's at about 6.30 am at the moment so I'm usually up and on set by five thirty at the latest." Louis winced - he usually only saw 5 in the morning if he was still up from the night before. He supposed getting up to see a sunrise was probably a wonderful thing to do once or twice in your life - who wouldn't want to admire the beauty of daybreak? - but five days a week? Four weeks a month? It had to get tiring very quickly. Looking closer, Louis could see Harry did, indeed, look tired. He would have to nag him to stop texting him so much and to go to bed instead.

The interviewer went on to ask Harry a few questions about the upcoming series, his thoughts on Series 5's ending, how well the new members of cast were filling the shoes of those that had departed, how the premiere of his latest movie 'Drayden' would fit in to his hectic filming schedule, and then lastly about how much he missed everyone at home."

"Do you manage to keep in touch with your friends and family when you're all the way out here?"

"It's difficult sometimes," Harry sighed, "because there is a four hour time difference between here and England, but I do regularly phone home. In fact, my sister came out here to visit me a few weeks ago. Although, when I say visit I think it was more an opportunity for her to spend two weeks sunbathing in paradise rather than to actually see me because she missed me."

The interviewer laughed, "I'm sure that's not true but, still, it must have been lovely to have seen her. Also, I've been told that your friend Niall, who is a radio presenter in the UK, has rung you up on air while you've actually been on the set?"

"Yeah," Harry nodding, smiling in a slightly more pained fashion, "he loves phoning me up when he's on air - I think he gets a kick out of how lame and uncool I sound without a script."

The interviewer laughed again, "Well, we don't have a script right now and I can definitely say you don't sound lame or uncool."

"Aww thank you, flattery," Harry looked right into the camera and gave a cheeky wink, "will get you everywhere." _Don't I know it_ , Louis thought with an internal eyeroll as he took another long drag in attempt to chill his sudden jitters, _it's the only explanation as to why I didn't kill you for making me eat Quorn three times a week. Rubbery and utterly tasteless it was and I know you hated it too - even though you couldn't let go of your pride enough to admit it. One of the best days of my life was finding that article saying it was processed mould and not a mushroom-based protein as we were led to believe. Haha! The speed in which you binned those packets almost made up for the number of horrible meals I had to choke down._

"...Louis Tomlinson?"

Louis exhaled his lungful in a choked rush as he tuned right back in to the programme at the sound of his own name. His eyes narrowed as he took in Harry's expression. Hold the effing phone, what had been the start of that question?! Scratch that, why had his name even been mentioned? Harry was heart-eyeing like bloody Pepe le Pew - just like he always did whenever he was laying it thick with the flattery. Before he could ask his benevolent hosts for a recall, Harry was talking again and Louis listened suspiciously. "I actually speak to him all the time." Okay, so Harry sounded absolutely delighted by that, which made Louis's stomach flutter ridiculously. It was rather nice - dare he say _touching_ \- to hear that his company meant so much to his friend that he felt it necessary to point out to the public how much. "We're best friends."

"You have known him for a long time, yes?" the woman asked, genuine interest in her voice. It wasn't very often that people close to Louis Tomlinson talked about him - mainly because the press had a habit of twisting things. So Louis could, therefore, understand the interviewer's curiosity and forgive her instinctual desire to dig a little deeper now that Harry had opened the door. 

Nodding, Harry added, "We went to school together. He was two years older than me but we hung about in the same circles."

"What's he like in reality?" the woman asked, leaning over the table in a conspiritory fashion, like that would help yield more gossip. "I've often found the person depicted in the media tends not to be anything like the real thing. Is he as posh as made out or is he just one of the lads?" Ooh, she was good.

Harry chuckled, and it was soft and affectionate and Louis found himself biting his lip and fonding right back. "He's wonderful," Harry was now ducking his head a little, blushing brightly, and Louis found himself doing the same, "he's sweet and thoughtful, really kind and honest... he also has a wicked sense of humour that can have you in absolute stitches and is sarcastic as hell. But he's also incredibly intelligent and I mean, _jaw-droppingly_ intelligent. Not many people will know he designs lasers for a living. Not just any lasers either, they're all for medical use, like brain surgery and cancer treatment and a lot of his equipment is now used in hospitals across the world. He's probably helped doctors save millions of lives and he's still only in his twenties." _Oh god Haz, shut up. You're embarrassing me_ , Louis thought with both adoration and horror. "In fact," Harry added, still with too much enthusiasm, "he designed a laser that can kill some malignant tumours from outside the human body without any adverse side-effects that you get with chemo and radio therapy." The interviewer made appropriate wow noises as Harry continued to gush, "He was even nominated for a Nobel Prize, which he refuses to brag about because he is ridiculously modest to boot. Sadly, though, most people will only know him for his celebrity status and the fact he's drop dead gorgeous."

Louis' face was on fire and he shoved a pillow over his head to hide from Zayn and Perrie's delighted catcalls and mocking. _Oh god, Harry! You just had to call me gorgeous on bloody TV, didn't you?_ He whimpered to himself.

"Aww, do I spy a little crush?" the interviewer cooed and Louis made a noise of pain which he didn't think he was capable of after his balls dropped. _You dare answer that, you dare..._

"Had a crush on him since I was sixteen," Harry admitted, quiet and proud, and Louis just knew, from the mischief in his friend's voice, what was coming next. _How easy would it be to suffocate yourself with a pillow_? he wondered. _Would it be more or less painful than listening to what's coming?_ "I think anyone who knows me knows about it, it's become quite the joke," said Harry, comfirming Louis's fears. He then let out an overdramatic sigh. "Alas, it's still unrequited but I am determined to convince him to marry me one day."

From behind the pillow, Louis whimpered aloud, "Warn him I'm about to do something to his balls that will make him cry and not in the good way."

"Aww Harry, I'm sure _he's_ the one missing out," the interviewer cooed, "but, for what it's worth, I think you'd make the cutest of couples."

Louis could hear Harry chuckle even through his pillow earplugs, "I think so too but he's probably going to kill me for saying that."

"Wow, you're psychic, buddy," Louis mumbled, reaching for his phone.

~*~

EARLY MARCH

He was in the middle of ironing his work shirts and making sarcastic comments at the evening's Newsnight debate on the city rail transport when Cole called to say he was on the doorstep. Surprised and a little concerned by the uncharacteristic late night call, Louis switched off the iron and hurried through to let him in. Raised in London, he knew never to leave his door unlocked - even if he was in the house. As he pulled back the bolt and opened the door, he was nearly blown backwards by the force of the wind. February had just come to a close and the weather was living up to its proverb of 'Beware the ides of March'. It wasn't a good premise for Cole and Amelia's wedding at the end of the month. The last few days had been a wild mix of high winds and pouring rain and it was set to continue. There were already flood warnings out and Louis was glad his house was just far enough inland to escape the Thames' flood zone. Although, he eyed the water gurgling around the drain across the street suspiciously, that didn't mean he was completely safe.

"Sorry," said Cole as he stepped inside, shaking water all over the mat, "I know you throw the bolt at night and I didn't want to start knocking and wake up your neighbours."

"That's okay," Louis shrugged, shutting the door and throwing said bolt back in to place. London was a high crime area and he would not be lax in his security - even when at home. "What's with the late night visit though? Everything okay?" Cole was not one for regularly dropping in without prior notice - at least not late at night during the week. Weekends were entirely exempt.

Cole shifted uncomfortably and Louis got one of those awful feelings. "Uh... can we sit down and chat for a moment?"

"Course, mate," Louis agreed softly, his tongue already starting to feel heavy, "you don't have to ask. Want a cuppa?"

Cole nodded, looking slightly relieved at the thought of postponing their talk for a minute, which didn't ease Louis' growing unease, "Yeah, please. It's freezing out there." He slid off his sopping jacket and his shoes before following Louis through to the kitchen. As Louis set about filling the kettle, Cole took a seat at the small breakfast table and squinted upwards. "You got new lights?"

Louis glanced up at the ceiling, "Yeah actually, I put them in last weekend. The old halogens were just too dull so I changed them for LEDs. They're meant to be more economical as well as more luminous, but we'll see."

Cole chuckled flatly. "They are certainly brighter than before; I might need sunglasses."

They waited in an ever growing tense silence until the kettle had finished boiling and Louis had filled the teapot.

"So," Louis forced out as he set everything down on the table and took a seat , "what would you like to talk about?" Even he could hear the weakness in his voice. It was obvious this wouldn't be a happy conversation but just how bad it would be depended on Cole's reply to his next question, "Everything alright with you and Amelia?"

"We're okay," Cole hedged. Louis's hands started trembling around the pot handle as the lesser of the bad possibilities was eliminated. Relationships could be fixed but... _other things_ couldn't. "It's just," said Cole, "I got some news today and I wanted you to hear it from me before you heard it from... uh... other sources."

Louis nearly poured tea all over the table. _Oh god. No. Please let it be anything but that_. But he could already feel it in his bones, the darkness, the foreboding... _No_ , he closed his eyes; he wasn't even going to voice the idea in his head. Thinking it or speaking it would make it real and Louis didn't want _that_ to be real, not now, not ever. Not after last time.

"Well," he choked out, shakily putting the teapot down and picking up the sugar. He started to spoon it purposefully into Cole's cup, determined to prolong the moment before his friend would crush their happy little world, "that's good of you."

"Louis..." Cole pleaded softly, and stilled Louis's spooning hand by grabbing his wrist.

Louis closed his eyes. "Please don't say what I think you're about to say."

"They're sending extra troops to Syria."

" _No_ ," Louis dropped the sugar bowl and covered his face with his hands. _Not again, not again_.

"Louis," Cole croaked pleadingly, "please look at me." Louis couldn't _not_ comply to that and he slowly met his friend's tearful expression with his own. "They are sending extra troops to Syria and they will announce it publicly in the morning. I, and many other reservists, have been drafted in for the second wave, which means I leave for Syria in the middle of April."

Tears prickled at Louis's eyes at the unfairness of it all. Cole had only just finished a six month deployment in Afghanistan three months ago. How could this have come around so quickly again? It felt like only last week they were jumping every time the telephone rang. Very few things come close to the sheer terror one felt every time the news reported another roadside bomb or soldier death. It was exhausting; from the constant fear, the far and few in-between phone calls, the distance, the worry of extended duty... Louis didn't think his nerves could survive another round like Cole's last service. "However," Cole added, his voice commanding Louis' attention, "my time will be capped at seven months active duty instead of the new eight."

Louis let out a shuddering breath, "So you'll be home just in time for Christmas," he realised, trying to smile and failing badly.

"Yes," said Cole quietly, "hopefully in time for Christmas. Also... this will be my last deployment."

Louis's breath caught in his throat and he sat up straighter. "What does that mean?"

"It means I have handed in my letter of resignation stating I will be leaving at the end of my ten year contract. That means, when I get home in December I will be a fully free civilian."

Louis choked on a cry, "Really?!"

Cole smiled, "Really. Amelia and I discussed it after I proposed and we decided that if we wanted to start a family then we ought to do it right. It's impossible to have any stability if I'm off out of the country for months on end at the drop of a hat. So I decided that once my contract comes to an end that's it. I'm out."

"And that's this December?" Louis repeated, scarcely daring to believe.

"Yep. My ten years are up at the end of December."

"I don't know whether to be happy or devastated," Louis admitted after a long moment. "On one hand, you are so near to being done in the army and I want to cry with relief, on the other hand, between now and then, you have seven months of active duty in Syria and I want to cry in terror." He blinked back the insistant tears and hissed, "Fucking _Syria_ , Cole. After Aft, that's almost like jumping out of the frying pan and into the fire!"

"I know," Cole replied softly, his eyes downcast. "I know, mate, but it'll be alright, you'll see."

"It better be," Louis warned. "Can't run after your kids with two legs missing, can you?" He knew it was an awful thing to joke about but in a moment like this your sensitivity goes haywire.

Cole chuckled, not taking offence, "I guess not."

They sipped silently on their tea for a minute as Louis tried to get himself under control. He was not going to cry in front of his friend - Cole didn't deserve that, he needed his friends to be strong and supportive.

"How... how is Amelia taking this?" he asked eventually.

"Not too well, at least not at first, pretty tearful," Cole admitted, "but she knows there's nothing to be done and that it'll be over for good by December. So she's trying to put a brave face on for me. I'm just glad it didn't ruin our wedding plans. We get back from our honeymoon four days before I leave."

"That's something at least..." Louis sighed. "How about you, mate? How are you feeling about it?"

"I would be lying if I said I wasn't bricking it," Cole's chuckle was weak.

"Christ," Louis swore as he reached out and squeezed his friend's hand, knowing it would do little to ease the fear of what was coming, "anything I can do?"

"Nah, not really. Just the usual. Act normal and shit..." Then his expression turned playfully pleading, "Except... since you know his schedule so well, maybe you could tell Harry the news for me?"

"Not on your life," Louis choked, shuddering at the sheer thought, "you made your bed... you can fucking break his heart!"

"Worth a shot..." Cole sighed before smiling weakly, "you want me to go in a minute?"

Louis looked down at the table, a bit embarrassed. "Kind of, I would rather you didn't watch me cry like a baby and I don't know how much longer I can hold back."

"Okay," Cole patted his hand. "You're still up for the stag, yeah?"

"Of course," Louis nodded. "Although I guess it's going to be a joint stag and leaving party now?"

"Probably," Cole agreed, "Has Harry confirmed if he'll be back here in time, yet? I haven't heard from him for a fortnight."

"Yeah, he got confirmation the other day. In fact, he thinks he'll get the time between the stag party and the wedding off too." Louis' heart skipped a beat at the reminder of the exciting news. Two whole weeks of Harry, thank god - that's if it didn't turn out like Christmas...

"Excellent." Cole drained the last of his tea and stood up. "Ok, so I'm heading off now - I want to speak to Zayn before he goes to bed."

Louis walked him as far as the door before he couldn't hold back anymore. Cole nearly tripped backwards with the force of Louis's hug. "Be safe, please," he pleaded in a whisper.

Sighing and tucking Louis' head under his chin, Cole whispered back, "It'll be alright mate. I promise. It'll be alright."

They held like that for a long moment before Louis nodded and straightened up, scratching the back of his head bashfully, "I'll maybe pop over tomorrow night - lend some moral support."

"Okay." Cole nodded. "Bring GTA with you. Goodnight."

"Night," Louis mumbled and let him out of the house.

The moment the door was shut behind him, Louis sunk to the floor with his head in his hands. _It wasn't bloody fair; it wasn't bloody fair at all_.

~*~

END OF MARCH

It was cold, grey, and sleeting when Harry arrived back in England, three days earlier than planned. Louis, toasty warm and utterly engrossed in aligning mirrors and singing along to the radio, was completely oblivious to anything happening outside the lab. For a long few minutes, Harry quietly leaned in the doorway and fondly watched his friend work. Sure, it was probably a little bit creepy on his part but Louis was always endearing to behold when he was engrossed in an activity. He could practically feel Perrie's internal squeeing from behind him - endeared and excited by Harry's surprise appearance and how Louis would react.

As he watched Louis measuring and marking, Harry felt a lump rise in his throat. While he was on set, he could busy himself enough to distract him from the distance, but, in the quiet of his hotel room, it became instantly harder to ignore the terrible ache in his gut. Seeing Louis in the flesh made Harry miss him all the more and he wanted nothing more than to hug him and never let go. Talking on the phone and Skyping had been great but it was just not the same as actually being physically there with him. 

Today, Louis looked especially gorgeous with his hair mussed up artfully and his blue tie/purple shirt combination softening his delicate features. With the addition of his white lab coat and the top-of-the-range magnifying loupes, he looked every inch the science genius too. Harry felt a swell of pride in his chest as he saw the framed copies of Louis and Perrie's degrees up on the wall and recalled everything they had achieved so far in this little lab. Sure, he was pretty biased when it came to his best friend, but winning a Breakthrough Prize before the age of 25 was about as much proof as one could get that someone was at the top of their game. After all, it wasn't just any old scientist who could design laser-based technology for pioneering medical procedures.

The funny thing was, to look at Louis outwith the lab, one wouldn't guess he was a scientist let alone a Nobel Prize nominated one. With his prominent cheek bones, stormy blue eyes, feathered mess of brown hair, and cheeky, knee-weakening grin, you'd be forgiven for mistaking Louis for a model. Or, if you caught him out playing in one of his little charity tournaments, you might even mistake him for a professional football player. To his friends, though, Louis presented himself as such a typical lad that it sometimes floored Harry to be reminded, in moments like this, just how insanely clever the guy was. Kind too; his work was centred around saving lives, after all - how much more perfect could you get?

"Whoever is hovering in the doorway, please stop; it's creepy."

Harry was startled out of his thoughts by Louis' voice but then smiled wide, biting his bottom lip to stop himself giggling like the lame sod he was. He had missed Louis' dry sense of humour these last few months too.

"I was trying to be polite and not startle you while you were handling expensive equipment," he replied, straightening up, ready for Louis's reaction, "but if you'd prefer... I could come back later...?" Harry laughed as Louis scrambled around in shock, sending screws scattering everywhere. The scientist didn't seem to care though, as he yanked off his special glasses, which probably cost more than Harry's first car, and tossed them carelessly on to the workbench. For a second Louis just gaped at him, then his expression lit up like the proverbial Blackpool lights. " _Oh my god_ , Hazza?!" He breathed out.

The genuine delight in his friend's expression made the lump in Harry's throat grow. He held out his arms and teased a slightly watery, " _Surprise_?"

" _Oh my god_..." Louis scrambled off the stool and bounded over. Harry chuckled and nearly staggered backwards out the door as Louis barrelled into him. Six months. It had been almost six months since they'd been properly face to face, excluding that one day during Christmas when they'd swapped presents with the other lads. Taking a deep breath of Versace Man and Lenor Black Diamond, he pulled Louis into a fierce hug, burying his face into his soft hair and enveloping himself in the wonderful sweet smell of home.

Louis clutched at him wildly, his small(er) fists scrunching up Harry's jacket in his haste to hold on. "You're _home_ ," his voice cracked with emotion which, in turn, made Harry well-up even more. "You're home _early_."

Pulling back enough to be able to look down into Louis's expression of wonder, Harry croaked, "We wrapped a few days early so I thought I would come back a little sooner than expected, just to surprise you." He tried to smile but it was wobbly at best.

"Consider me very surprised," Louis wailed as he pressed his face back into Harry's sleet-damp coat, "Christ, I missed you so _much_."

Heart swelling, Harry tightened his grip and breathed out a heavy, "Missed you more."

"Aww! This is so sweet, I think I'm going to cry."  
"Me too, either that of I'm going to fall into a diabetic coma."  
"Who needs Hollywood when you have reality."  
They pulled back to stick their tongues out at Liam and Perrie who were watching on from the other room, hands clutched dramatically to their chests.

"Shut up," Harry told them without any heat, pulling Louis close again. The shorter man's cheeks were red and blotchy despite the massive grin stretching from ear to ear. Harry felt like cooing himself.

"It's like the end of a rom-com," Liam teased. "The two leads are finally reunited; they kiss, the music swells, and everyone lives happily ever after."

As one, Harry and Louis turned to each other and launched into a fake passionate embrace, Louis's hands fervently gripping Harry's hair as Harry hefted him up against the door frame. For a few seconds they made obnoxious smooching sounds until their laughter became too much for them to carry on.

"Oh my darling!" Louis cried dramatically, throwing his arms around Harry's neck, "You've come home to me!"

"Yes, I have," Harry declared, "for I could never stay away for too long! We are fated to be together" Star-crossed lovers destined since birth. Marry me, Louis! Marry me!"

"I wouldn't say yes, Louis," Liam broke in, " _even in jest_ , or Harry might actually take that as a serious answer. You're playing into his dreams here." There was a pause and then they were all laughing, even Harry.

"Honestly," Harry admitted, blushing a little as the laughter died down, he was always one of the first to mock himself, "you're probably not that far off. Only there's a lot less dramatics in my head and a whole lot more inappropriate touching."

" _Ooh_!" Louis drawled, walking his fingers up Harry's chest in a teasing fashion. "And just which one of us is doing the touching?"

"I usually envision it as mainly mutual," Harry leered.

" _Okay_!" Liam interrupted, wincing. "I think we've reached the end of the joke now. That's something none of us want to see."

"Speak for yourself," Perrie huffed, "it's like live porn." They all turned to stare at her, wide-eyed in disbelief. "What?" she protested. "If you guys can enjoy some lesbian action, then why can't women enjoy some man on man action?"

"Considering what I've seen on Harry's internet history," said Louis, faintly, "I don't think gay porn appeals to only women."

There was another short pause and then Louis was cackling as he tried to duck Harry beating him around the head with his beanie. 

~*~

The first question Louis had to ask was whether Harry was still planning on staying in London for the full two weeks or if he'd decided to head up north to see his family instead. With a shyness that would have melted the heart of even the hardest of criminals, Harry had asked if Louis's guestroom was still free for use. "I _do_ plan on visiting my parents," he'd added quickly, "probably tomorrow, trains permitting, otherwise mum will never forgive me." Louis knew this to be true, he'd seen Anne, who was normally one of the kindest women he knew, drag Harry into the house by his ear for waiting until two weeks into a month's down-time to visit her. Louis had waited politely in the hallway while Harry got his dressing down in the kitchen, silently guffawing with Gemma until they were both in danger of wetting themselves. If only one of them had had the thought to pull out their phone and record it - that had been a Youtube moment if ever there was one. 24 year old multimillionaire movie star Harry Styles scolded like a five year old by his mum. Harry's fans would have probably have been beside themselves in glee.

"I'd like to stay in London for most of my stay though," Harry added, "if that's alright?"

"You know you're always welcome at mine," Louis replied, forcing himself to shrug rather than jump up and down like an over-excited idiot. Two weeks of having Harry to himself - just like back in the summer - life was suddenly a whole lot less bleak and stressful. "To be honest, that room's practically yours anyway," he said with a smile. "Come on, I'll knock off early and we can get you settled in. I bet you're knackered from that flight."

"I haven't slept in 25 hours," Harry admitted, with a pitiful groan. "I don't know whether I'm deliriously happy to be home or just bloody delirious."

"That settles it then. Home time." Louis looked to Liam, "You coming with?"

Liam sighed, "I wish I could but I've still got orders to put in. It's great to have you back, though, Haz. I'll make sure the others give you a chance to catch some sleep before they swamp you."

"You're the best," Harry yawned, pulling Liam into a sideways hug then mussing his hair playfully.

~*~

"... and so, in a panic, she grabs a broom and slams the handle against Frankie's hand to get him to let go of the iron. Broke his hand and wrist in three places. Thing was, it turned out he wasn't being electrocuted; he was just dancing to his i-Pod."

Louis clutched at his aching chest with one hand and used the other to wipe away tears of mirth. "The best part," Harry continued, determined to make Louis laugh even harder, "was when she brought him back to set. As she helped him out of the car, she managed to shut his hand in the door. He had to go back to the clinic where they told him he had four more broken fingers!"

"Oh god," Louis panted, gasping for breath.

"He couldn't wipe his own arse for six weeks," Harry crowed, "so the production team employed this battleaxe of a nurse who couldn't speak a word of English. She absolutely terrified poor Ian and he couldn't make himself go to the toilet for over a week and a half out of fear of her manhandling him. So he ended up back in hospital with a hose up his bottom. After that he said enough was enough and demanded to be returned to his family in his beloved San Jose..."

"Oh... no... please... stop," Louis pleaded, clutching at his aching ribs.

Grinning in triumph Harry laid the final blow, "And that's how he ended up with the nickname Hand Hose-ay." Louis curled up in agony, his peals of laughter making him sound like a fitting whale.

Harry calmly stood up from the table and stretched, feeling very pleased with himself. Picking up their empty mugs he carried them over to the dishwasher and then set about raiding the cupboards for something to eat. Unfortunately, the cupboards were despairingly bare, as was the fridge.

"S-sorry," Louis choked out as he clocked what Harry was doing. "I-I haven't been...heh... heh... shopping yet. Was going to this evening... stock up for you coming back so it was fresh and all."

"Oh well," Harry replaced the bread bin lid which had, at least, yielded a fresh loaf.

"The best I think I can offer is a fish-finger sarnie," Louis apologised, "So unless you want to go shopping right _now_ , the best option for food is to either order in or eat out."

To Louis's surprise, it was the first option that tickled Harry's fancy. "Oh god," he groaned, "I know it sounds silly, but I haven't had a fish-finger sandwich for soooooo long. One, you can't buy them in Guadeloupe and, two, they don't really have bleak afternoons to suit such a thing and you need a cold, miserable day to truly enjoy a fish-finger sandwich."

"Well, it _is_ a cold miserable day," Louis pointed out, as rain lashed against the kitchen window, "and I'm sure I've got some lettuce that hasn't turned brown yet..." he got up and went over to the fridge to check what else he had, "and some Leerdammer... oh and an unopened jar of tartare sauce! I say let's go for it."

Twenty minutes later, Harry was moaning like a pornstar as he tore through the bulging fish sandwich. "I forgot how good you are at these. I'm never leaving again. Nuh-uh. This is my life from now on; rainy days, tea, and your fish-finger sandwiches"

" _What_ ," Louis snorted, although inwardly dancing at Harry's culinary praise, "and leave 20 million fans gutted that their favourite programme has been cancelled because it's star won't leave my house to finish filming? No thanks mate, I would like to avoid having a homicidal crowd baying for my blood because I've stolen their messiah."

Harry pulled a face, nearly slittering tartare sauce down his top, "Ha-ha, I'm hardly a messiah to my fans."

"Harry," said Louis, with as much gravity as he could muster, "there is a website called _The Temple of Styles_ and its 14,000 followers call themselves Stylinites. They might not call you the messiah by name but it is heavily implied. They're not the sort of people I want to get on the bad side of no matter how much you like me."

Harry just giggled and muttered something that sounded like, "I guess you haven't seen the Larry Stylinsons then."

Louis narrowed his eyes suspiciously and then decided, "No, I do not want to know," which made Harry giggle even more.

When he had swallowed his last bite and licked his fingers clean, Harry sighed and closed his eyes contently.

"Tired?"

"Yeah," he murmured, "but also very, _very_ glad to be home."

Louis swallowed his last bite and smiled as he stood up, brushing his hands off on his trousers, "It's good to have you home. Want to go and watch crap TV?"

Harry opened his eyes and laughed, "Like you wouldn't believe. I hope you recorded every episode of The X-Factor like you promised."

"Didn't miss a day," said Louis sing-songed proudly, putting their plates in the dishwasher, "although you surely know who won? It was all over the media."

"It's surprising what you can miss on a small island in the Caribbean where the majority of people only speak French or Creole. Come on, my starving inner couch-potato is weeping at the sight of a meal."

~*~

Half an hour later, Louis paused the TV and got up to gently tuck a blanket over Harry's slumbering form. So much for a starving inner couch-potato. Grinning, he headed up the stairs to change the sheets in the guest room and to put in an order for Tesco Home Delivery. Holy crap, Harry was actually home. How could life get any better? Seriously?!

~*~

It was almost like Harry hadn't been away. The next morning Louis woke up to find a cup of tea and a plate of egg-on-toast waiting on the table for him.

"You didn't have to make me breakfast," he insisted in delight as he abandoned his tie on the kitchen counter and sat down instead. "You could have slept in!"

"Least I could do. Anyway I woke up early," Harry shrugged, like it was no big deal, "ten hours of sleep is enough - even with jetlag."

"Speak for yourself, I'd be in bed for 24 hours if I could." The thought of it made Louis almost wistful. 

Harry pursed his lips and then waggled his eyebrows playfully.

It took a moment for Louis to catch on. " _Not_ like that, Styles," he groaned when the penny dropped. "Get your head out the gutter; it's not even quarter to eight yet!" He started to cut up his food, ignoring Harry's lascivious grin. "So... what are your plans for today?"

Harry shrugged. "Was thinking of going up to Mum's and getting that out of the way. I'd stay the night and then come back to London late tomorrow afternoon. I could pick you up from work and we could catch some dinner at The Ivy, and maybe call at Cole and Amelia's on the way home?"

"Sounds great but there's a slight snag," Louis sighed, already regretting his pre-made plans when faced with such a tempting prospect, "I promised Liam I would sit the boys tomorrow night. He has a corporate dinner with a client and wanted to take Sophia. They already rely so much on paid childcare and I didn't know you'd be home early-"

"Oh, that's okay," Harry cut in brightly, "we could still take the boys out with us to dinner - Charlie loves The Ivy. We'll just postpone visiting Ammie and Cole till Friday instead."

Louis grinned, ridiculously relieved that all wasn't lost. He loved the boys very much but he kinda, sorta, maybe loved Harry even more. Sue him; he was human. "Sounds like a plan."

"In fact," said Harry thoughtfully, "I'll make Friday my day for going around everyone - maybe even surprise Niall at the radio station in the morning."

"Don't forget to make Zayn a priority, too," Louis reminded him, "or he'll get miffed like last time."

"Already texted him to say I'd stop by on my way to Mum's."

"Good lad."


	5. Chapter 4

The next day, after work, instead of getting off at his usual station Louis travelled on with Liam to his house in Southfields. The Payne’s lived in a four bedroom terraced house, almost identical to his own, but with a small square drive and a long strip of lawn that constituted a back garden.

Charlie and Jack were very pleased to see him.

“Uncle Louis!” Charlie cried, completely ignoring his father and jumping up at Louis instead, nearly taking his eye out with his dragon mask. Laughing, Louis hoisted him up onto his hip.

“Agh, it’s a monster!” he fake-cried.

“No!” Charlie shouted, “it is I, Charlie the Golden Dragon! Rawr! Come and see my cool den!”

And that’s where Harry found them an hour later, sitting in a tent made from blankets thrown over the settees, munching on Wotsits as How to Train Your Dragon played on TV. Little Jack was running back and forth with his potty on his head saying, “I smell a dragon. You haf to help me find him, Hawwy!”

“Have fun,” was all Liam said as he and Sophia made a quick exit.

“Right,” Harry clapped his hands together. “Who wants to go on an adventure?”

Three hands went up, “Me!” Louis cried. “And I also want food!”

“Food! Food! Food!” the boys chanted.

“Okay, coats, shoes, and hats on then and remember boys, you mustn’t let go of our hands otherwise the adventure will be over.” Harry peered down at Louis with a smirk, “That includes you mister.”

Louis threw a Wotsit at him, which Harry caught and ate, waggling his eyebrows.

 

~*~

 

The next morning, as soon as he sat down on the train, Liam shoved the Metro in his face with a ‘hurrumph’. Louis unfolded it and laughed. He, Harry and the boys had made the entertainment section. “Harry Styles is back in town! First stop; dinner date with Louis Tomlinson at The Ivy along with two adorable little boys believed to be Tomlinson’s godsons. Harry Styles may have received his wish after being spotting having an intimate dinner with the man he recently admitted he has a crush on…” Louis rolled his eyes and turned his attention to the images. There was a strip of four pictures which showed he and Harry laughing at the table, Jack standing on the seat trying to shove his fingers up Harry’s nose, the four of them attacking an After-Eight sundae with four spoons, and then them leaving - the kids giddy and excited as they rode high on their shoulders. It was all very cute and the paper had had the decency to blur out the boys’ faces.

“Sorry, Li,” he apologised, “I didn’t even notice the pap.”

Liam shrugged, “Don’t care about that. I’m more concerned about the ice cream. How many times have I told you that puddings are reserved…”

“For weekends only,” Louis parroted, “blah, blah, blah, ugh, you are so boring.”

“Yeah, but at least my sons will grow up to be healthy and treat-wise.”

“Bahoooooorrring,” Louis sang and grinned at the banker who winked at him from the opposite side of the carriage.

 

~*~

 

Cole’s stag party was to take place on the Saturday night a week before the wedding. Following in the sense of tradition, it had been organised by the Best Man – one of Cole’s closest comrades in the army who had also been drafted in for Syria. It was styled as a “one last night out on the town” kind of do, with lots of naughty winks and elbow nudges. Louis wasn’t a heavy drinker and was also more of the innocent kind of reveller, so he thought nothing of the unfamiliar club name and simply attributed the winks to mean lots of drinking and maybe some contraband. Curiously, none of the other lads had heard of the club either and most of them were _very_ in touch with the London nightscene. So after having a curry at their favourite Indian restaurant, Tayyabs, he, Niall, Stan, Harry, Liam, Andy, Olli, and Zayn decided to catch a cab to the venue together. That way, if they got lost, they would be lost as a group. In retrospect, they probably should have Googled the place before going… then they could have been mentally prepared. Instead, Zayn read the address to the driver and they sat back eagerly to see where they ended up.

It turned out not to be more than a 20 minute ride across central London and the taxi drew to a stop not far from the most dubious part of Soho. It was immediately clear they were at a strip club and the eagerness faltered. Louis felt instantly uneasy and got out of the cab rather reluctantly, already envisioning the headlines in the morning if he were caught here. Even worse, he envisioned the expression on his Great Grandmother’s face – that would not be a comfortable conversation at all. All of a sudden the earlier curry was not sitting so comfortably in his stomach. Judging by Harry’s sudden quietness, he wasn’t overly keen about the venue either. Then again, his reluctance may be due more to the lack of appreciation he had for the female form rather than a media frenzy.

As they waited for Zayn to pay the cabbie, all of them shivering in the gusty wind, Stan looked up at the club dubiously, “Are you _sure_ this is the right, place?” It was a bit rhetoric as it wasn’t likely that there were any other clubs called _Swivel_ in London – trademarks and all that.

“Must be,” Niall nodded, already looking giddy with glee. Of course, Niall wasn’t likely to get more than a laddish slap on the back for being seen in a seedy club. Harry, Louis, and Zayn, on the other hand, would get a lot of flack from the press and their peers. Although, Louis had to admit that if it was a strip club, then, from the outside, it didn’t look as sordid as one would expect. The pounding music, the blackened windows, the trendy purple sign hailing ‘Swivel’, the usual bouncer types manning the doorway… it could have passed for any typical night club. The only indication it was a strip club was the white silhouettes of dancing girls in the windows and the white placard next to the door advising about adult entertainment. All in all, it looked a little posh to be honest.

“Oh god,” Liam whined, wringing his hands as if he had only just realised where he was, “Sophia’s going to kill me if there are naked women in there…”

“Who gives a shit?” Andy shrugged, already making for the door with a bounce in his step. Andy, Louis had concluded years ago, often had all the class of a sexoholic with a free pass to a brothel and he wasn’t alone in wondering how Andy and Liam were such good friends. They were like polar opposites.   
With several sighs, the others followed in his wake. They were, after all, here to support Cole. With a flash of their invites they were in – pushed along by a very polite, “Enjoy your evening, gentlemen.”

The club was huge inside and the rooms were shadowed - lit only by the smoky blue haze from the tinted down-lighters and occasional flashing light. Despite the vast size, it was pretty busy. People were propped up against the neon-lit bars, drinking, or dancing along in thick crowds to the pounding music. If it wasn’t for the two female pole dancers on a nearby stage and some rather scantily-clad waitresses fetching empties, Swivel really could have passed for a normal night club. Also, the atmosphere had a definite higher degree of raunchiness. It was hot and sweaty and the music churned a guttural beat, heightening the passions of its patrons. Some couples were already taking advantage of the darkness to shield their carnality, while others just blatantly spread their lust towards the dancing women wherever there was a perch.

“Oh fuck,” Liam groaned under his breath, shrinking back as a woman in nothing but a golden bikini slid past with a tray and winked at him. “I don’t know where to focus my eyes.”

To be fair, Harry and Louis could empathise with that and had instinctively pressed closer together, hoping to make a beeline for the bar. Olli chuckled throatily, shrugging off his coat, eyes alight at the scene ahead. “That’s because you’re a prude Liam. Maybe this is just what you need to shake that stick loose… if not for you then at least for poor Sophia’s sake.”

Louis reached out and grabbed the back of Liam’s coat before he could make a swing. “Steady mate,” he hissed in his ear, “come on, you can hang out with me and Haz at the bar.”

They’d barely finished logging their coats before Cole found them. “Lads! You made it!” They all cat-called as the groom-to-be literally staggered towards them decked in a sweaty white checklist t-shirt and a ridiculous tophat with antlers. Already two of the tasks were marked off in black pen and there were numerous phone numbers and messages scrawled across the rest of the shirt. Hopefully, for Cole’s sake, Amelia would never see it. Nor the red lipstick smeared across her fiancé’s cheek either. Laughing, Louis reached out to rub it off, “No need to ask if you’re having a good time. Congratulations, mate! Can’t believe it’s almost the big day already.”

“Aww, thanks Lou-eh,” Louis found himself suddenly being pulled into a hug and subjected to a slobbery kiss, “I was worried you wouldn’t be able to prise yourself away from the lab or from Harry.”

“Wouldn’t have missed this for the world,” Louis replied heartily, patting Cole’s back and surreptitiously wiping the alcohol-infused drool from his own cheek.

“None of us would,” Harry added, over his shoulder.

“Hazzzzzzzzzzza!” Louis quickly stepped back as Harry got yanked into a hug which nearly toppled the poor actor. It was almost like Cole hadn’t seen Harry only the day before. “I missed yeh! Right jammy bastard getting to film in Guadeloupe – fucking look at your tan!” After swapping some over-enthusiastic hugs with the others, Cole told them to hurry up and join in the fun. “You can use your invitations to get as many free drinks at the bar as you want. Most of us are in the VIP lounge but feel free to catch a few shows in the main area, just remember you can look but not touch.” He giggled as though he couldn’t believe his own wildness at suggesting such a thing. This is what happened when posh gits allowed their army buddies to organise a stag party, Louis thought fondly. “But first, let me introduce you to the rest of the command.”

The other Royal Marines were exactly what Louis expected eleven military sons of aristocracy to be like; well-spoken yet loud, confident, boozy, and a bit too keen on arse-slapping. Louis found he quite liked them, although Harry looked a bit shell-shocked after one of the lads laid a stinger of a slap on his rear after complimenting him on his show. Louis teased him about being uncertain whether he was scared of the burly man or turned on.  
As they descended on the bar, Cole draped himself over Louis and Liam’s shoulders. “I’m sorry lads,” he slurred, “I know this is not your type of place, not my type of place either, but thanks for coming anyway.”

“It’s okay,” Louis replied with a gentle smile, “Liam and I will pretend we’re at the beach and that’s why there are so many women in bikinis, while Harry can just pretend the strippers are men in drag.” Cole threw his head back and laughed. “Fair enough, but Harry doesn’t need to pretend; there are male strippers in the Babylon room.”

“Behave,” Louis warned as he saw Harry’s eyes light up, “you’re not above the press yet.”

Harry pouted and ordered them a round of beer as Cole slapped Louis’ back and whispered, “Maybe you should check them out too, if you know what I mean.”

Louis pretended not to hear.

 

~*~

 

The moment the sickly pounding in his head awoke him, Louis knew he was going to throw up. Clambering off the bed, he made it as far as the bathroom door before he started retching and had to skid on his knees to make the pan. Clearly, beer and cocktails did not mix well as they expelled themselves with enough force to splatter everywhere. The taste and smell was so vile that Louis kept heaving long after everything had been purged. Eventually he managed to shakily flush and flop back against the wall, panting and pressing his clammy face against the cool tiles. Never again. Never, _never_ again.   
God, what time had they even got in last night? What time was it now? Everything was rather hazy… he looked towards the window, it was relatively bright and hurt his eyes so it must, at least, be late morning.

It took a good fifteen minutes but he was finally able to unsteadily push himself to his feet and stagger down the stairs for some painkillers. Liam was still snoring away on the couch and Louis winced as the sound made his head pound harder. He hurried his pace through to the kitchen.

Stan was sitting at the small breakfast table with his head buried in his folded arms. “Kill me. Kill me now,” he keened quietly as Louis entered. “Either that or tell me where you keep the bloody Nurofen.”

“Hang on,” Louis grunted, opening the cupboard next to the cooker-hood. A quick shift of a few items and he pulled out the small medicine chest. “Paracetamol or Ibruprofen or Nurofen or Aspirin?” He squinted at the different boxes, having to focus harder than normal to read.

“Paracetamol please, the other stuff sets off my stomach.”

Louis filled up two glasses and took one of them plus two pills over to the table. Stan received them gratefully. Louis then headed back to the sink and, after a steadying breath, swirled his mouth out with some of the water from the other glass. His stomach rolled and he queasily spat the sour flavour out into the sink. He wasn’t entirely sure if he could keep any pills down. Hesitantly, he took another sip of water and gingerly swallowed. It sat cool and uneasy in his stomach. Deciding he was better off to just go for it, Louis took two Nurofen and quickly swallowed them back. His stomach gurgled unhappily but for a moment he thought they would stay. A second later he was gripping the edge of the sink as he retched. Nothing came up though.

“You done?” Stan asked after a long quiet moment as Louis slumped back against the counter trying to calm the urge to gag. His friend now looked a little green around the gills himself– hearing someone else retch was enough to make anyone feel queasy as well.

“Yeah…” He stumbled over to the table and sat down, “never again though. Never am I drinking like that again.”

Stan feebly reached out and patted his hand, “I hear you, mate. I hear you.”

Above them there was a rush of feet followed by the bang of a toilet seat being slammed upright. By the sound of things, nobody had walked away lightly from last night’s binger.

It was Harry who eventually staggered down to the kitchen some half an hour later; pale, sweaty, and looking like he’d just had the worst experience of his life. “Never again,” he said fervently. “Never ever again.”

As the pills kicked in and finally reduced the horrendous throbbing, Louis started to recall the events of the previous night and, to be honest, he could have done without remembering at all. There had been a lot of dancing and drinking and _way_ too much naked flesh. A lot of chanting too and tequila… and, to his horror, he thinks he can remember sucking it from slick taut skin but whose skin he refused to even contemplate. It was best off not knowing. As the memories poured in, he flushed as he remembered being chased through one of the pole rooms shouting at the top of his lungs, “it’s art, it’s art, be free, be pretty!” And no, he still could not fathom what he had meant or why he had done it either.

Worst of all, he remembered he had gone to the Babylon room where naked male angels with wings and trays had walked amongst them - pretty, ethereal and… for some reason, Louis had been compelled to address them all as “Companion of thy Lord”. Somehow he had also gotten his hands on one of Cole’s marker pens and asked the angels to bless him with their divine message. Which, according to his blacked up arms, meant ‘give me your number’.

Although Cole had suggested he give it a go, Louis hadn’t really expected to do so nor enjoy himself so much. Babylon had been the epitome of a stereotypical gay bar. There had been a lot of glitter and colourful drinks and frequent riding of inflated pieces of fruit. A lot of dirty dancing too - hot, sweaty guys gyrating to tunes that made him blush to admit he actually knew the words to. But the most astonishing thing of all had been the thrum of desire that had tugged at his belly as sweaty men shimmied up against his back. At no point had he felt the pulsating wave of fear or the overwhelming drive to run as he had with women in the past. Instead, he had draped himself over the men and let the strange hands manoeuvre him in ways he’d have balked from before. Perhaps it was just the drink… or maybe… maybe Cole had been on to something. He glanced over at Harry, who was dissolving something into a glass, and felt his stomach swoop uncomfortably. Even without factoring his best friend into the equation (because Louis was not a sod and knew he had to consider Harry’s feelings for him too), there was a good chance things would get messy if he was to explore it further. No, he decided, for the time being he’d mark it down as a one off, but he would certainly keep an eye on it, now that his eyes were open.   


~*~

 

He should have known better than to have let Harry stay behind until Niall had finished the morning show so that their friend wouldn’t have to travel to the church alone. Louis tapped his foot against the slabbed floor nervously and checked his watch again. There were only two minutes left before Amelia was going to walk down the aisle and neither of the lads were here yet. It wasn’t that he was worried exactly, neither Harry nor Niall were known for their outstanding time-keeping skills, as per the running joke, but this was pushing it even for them. He glanced back over the pews to the doors but couldn’t see anything but the shadows of the walking party.

“No word?” Zayn asked, nudging his arm.

Louis double-checked his mobile, “No, not yet.”

“They’ll be here,” Liam soothed from in front, “don’t…”

Bang! Everyone turned around in shock as a side door burst open. “ _Niall_ ,” Harry’s unmistakable voice hissed in mortification. Louis bit his lip and grinned. God, he loved them.

Zayn stood up and beckoned them over, and a sweaty looking Niall and Harry hurried up the aisle. At the altar, Cole was rolling his eyes and he called out an amused, “One and a half minutes to spare, that’s a record lads!” The whole congregation burst out laughing and the awkward quiet finally lapsed into low cheerful chatter. The couple at the end of Louis’s row stood up and let the blushing men slide in.

“Okay?” Louis chuckled as Harry slumped down next to him. “Get held up in traffic?”  
“Don’t talk to me about it,” Harry replied through clenched teeth. “I am not driving anywhere with Niall again. He has no inner compass. Also, he is scrubbing the sheep shit off my car with his own toothbrush when we get home.”

Snorting, Louis shook his head, muttering, “I shan’t ask,” and set about fixing Harry’s rumpled clothing and hair. Less than a minute later the music began to play and Louis swiped a hand down Harry’s jacket once more before he joined everyone else standing up. It was a pretty grand affair. The little bridesmaids were cute in their peach coloured princess dresses and delighted in scattering bits of confetti all over the floor. The older bridesmaids walked demurely twenty steps behind - looking “fucking fit” in their peach A-Lines as Andy put it – which earned him a glare from an elderly woman in front. There was a bit of a giggle as the youngest bridesmaid reached the top of the aisle and decided to tip her remaining pot of confetti out in one big heap. There was an even bigger giggle when the five-year old ring bearer, Liam’s eldest, started his walk amid trying to rid himself of a wedgie. A swift wallop from Sophia as he walked past her pew got him to stop and suffer it. Then the music swelled up and it was the moment they had all been waiting for; Amelia stepped forward, arm in arm with her father.

“Wow, she looks gorgeous,” Harry sighed blissfully as their friend slowly walked up towards them. Louis had to agree; her dress floated daintily without being a meringue and it had a beautiful wrap-around embroidered decoration that must have been expensive. The veil continued the embroidery and hung down past her mid-back, flowing effortlessly into the dress. It was a classic and stunning style and he was maybe welling up a little.

“I can’t see,” Niall complained, trying to stand on tiptoe to see over the heads of the rows behind. Harry pushed him down and hissed that he would see her in a moment and to stop causing a scene.

As Amelia got closer, Louis glanced towards the altar at Cole and a lump grew in his throat instantly at the look of sheer enchantment on his best friend’s face. He couldn’t help but nudge Harry’s arm, nodding wordlessly in Cole’s direction. As he, too, glanced over, Harry’s smile froze and his eyes bubbled over – caught too by the emotion. Whatever happened in the next few months, at least Cole and Amelia would have this beautiful moment to cling on to. Louis had to force the reminder of Cole’s deployment to the back of his head. Today was a happy day.  
When Amelia finally reached the top of the aisle, Cole held out a hand and gently pulled her to his side, mouthing a clear, “you look so beautiful,” before kissing her knuckles. Louis felt a tear slip down his cheek and he swiped it away. Beside him Harry sniffled to show he was no better. Two tissues were suddenly thrust in their direction as Liam teased, “You’d have thought by now you’d remember to bring hankies, you soppy gits.” As the music hit its climax, Louis may have casually leaned forward and given Liam a wet willie for his troubles to which Harry choked on a very large laugh, causing heads to turn.

Then the music stopped and the minister started to speak, “Please be seated. Thank you.” There was a bit of wriggling as everyone tried to get comfortable in their row – it was a bit of a tight squeeze. “Welcome, dear friends, on this most joyous occasion. Today we gather here to witness and share in the delight as Cole and Amelia pledge themselves to each other in the most sacred of unions; marriage. Marriage joins two people in the circle of its love. It is a commitment which offers the opportunity for two people to find and bring out the best in each other.” Louis felt Harry squeeze his knee and smiled. “It also offers opportunities to learn and grow that no other opportunity can equal. Marriage is both a physical and emotional joining that is promised for a lifetime. It allows happiness to be fuller and makes it easier to understand and forgive the mistakes that life is unable to avoid. When two people pledge their love and care for each other within a marriage, they create a strength which binds them closer than any spoken or written words. It is a promise written with love and it takes a lifetime’s journey to fulfil…”

Louis sneaked a glance around and smiled as he clocked many of the couples around him cuddled together. Andy on the other hand, was scrolling through his phone, looking bored. Louis leaned forward and clipped his ear to which he earned a nod from the disapproving old woman in front of them. He heard Harry chuckle quietly and didn’t fight when he pulled him back into his side.

The minister then recited a reading from William Shakespeare’s Sonnet 116 on love and marriage. There was a brief applause afterwards and the ceremony moved on to the legal aspects of the vows.

“The purpose of marriage is for two people to vow that they will always love, care, and support each other through both the joys and sorrows of life. Today you will exchange these vows of marriage which will unite you as husband and wife. Before you are both joined together in marriage it is my duty to remind you of the solemn and binding character of the vows you are about to make. Marriage in this country is the union of two people, voluntarily entered into for life, to the exclusion of all others. I am now going to ask you each in turn to declare that you know of no legal reason why you may not be joined together in marriage.

Cole smiled and quietly pledged, “I do solemnly declare that I know not of any lawful impediment why I, Cole Henry Morton Spencer, may not be joined in marriage to Amelia Elizabeth Cunningham-Wexford.”

“And I,” Amelia recited, “do solemnly declare that I know not of any lawful impediment why I, Amelia Elizabeth Cunningham-Wexford, may not be joined in marriage to Cole Henry Morton Spencer.”

The minister nodded and then focused on the congregation, “I hereby ask, if any other person can show any just cause why this man and woman may not be lawfully joined together, let him speak now or forever hold his peace.”

The usual awkward silence reigned and Louis, typically, had to fight back a cough or sneeze lest he embarrass himself. It was Sod’s law that it was only when you had to remain silent that these urges pressed down upon you the greatest.

“Cole and Amelia, you have invited your guests here today to bear witness to your vows of commitment. Cole, do you take Amelia to be your lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold, for better or for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, from this day forward until death do you part?”

“I do,” Cole nodded. Next to him, Harry squeaked happily.

“And do you, Amelia, take Cole to be your lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold, for better or for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, from this day forward until death do you part?”

“I do.”

The minister smiled, “Could we have the rings please?”

Charlie shuffled forward proudly and bowed to the bride as he held out the cushion. Everyone awed while Liam put a hand over his face in embarrassment. Louis reminded himself to give the kid a high-five – anything that embarrassed Liam was worthy of a bit of praise.

“Please recite your vows and place the ring on Amelia’s finger.” Cole reached out and picked up the smaller ring, taking Amelia’s hand in his, “I call upon these persons here present to witness that I, Lieutenant Cole Henry Morton Spencer, take you Lady Amelia Elizabeth Cunningham-Wexford to be my lawfully wedded wife, to love and to cherish, from this day forward.”

Louis sniffled at the look of giddy excitement on Amelia’s face as Cole slipped the ring onto her finger. Then she reached out and picked up the other ring and Cole held his hand out.

“I call upon these persons here present to witness that I, Lady Amelia Elizabeth Cunningham-Wexford, take you Lieutenant Cole Henry Morton Spencer to be my lawfully wedded husband, to love and to cherish, from this day forward.”

The minister looked out to the congregation, “Today is a new beginning. May you have many happy years together and, in those years, may all your hopes and dreams be fulfilled. Above all, may you always believe in each other and may the warmth of your love enrich not only your lives but the lives of all those around you. It now gives me great pleasure to pronounce you both husband and wife. Congratulations.”

Beaming, Cole and Amelia leaned forward and shared a soft kiss as everyone stood up and started clapping. Louis surreptitiously wiped his eyes with his sleeve as he did so.

While the two newly-weds signed the register, the string quartet played _Air on the G String_ to keep everyone entertained. Louis raised an eyebrow when Harry started to wriggle about patting his pockets.

“Lost something?”

“Just looking for… oh I got it!” Harry triumphantly pulled out a small box conveniently titled ‘Confetti’.

“You are so into this, I’m actually worried,” Louis mumbled, shaking his head.

Stan, who had been gawking around at the hall like a tourist in the Sistine Chapel, oohed and announced, “That reminds me, I brought some too and I will bet you a hundred quid that mine is better.”

Liam snatched the small box from his hands as soon as Stan had produced it from an inside pocket.

“Where the fuck did you – no, scratch that, there is no way in hell you’re throwing this stuff.”

“Why not,” Stan protested, “it’s fun!”

Liam looked pointedly over at the younger bridesmaids at the front who were entertaining themselves by picking up their dropped confetti and throwing it about like snow. “I don’t think their parents will be best pleased if they have to pick mini paper dicks out of their daughters’ hair.”

Stan slumped back in his seat sulkily, muttering, “Fun nazi.”

Harry and Louis shared a look and giggled. It was more likely Liam didn’t want to be picking dicks out of his son’s hair seeing as he was right in the thick of the snow making.


	6. Chapter 5

APRIL

The day Cole left on deployment was grey and drizzly which complimented everyone's moods perfectly. Louis, Zayn and Liam all accompanied Amelia and Cole's parents to the barracks to see Cole off. Nobody had much to say and there were too many tears and tissues for an event they had all sworn to be strong for. They weren't alone though. Two hundred other families had also arrived to see their loved ones off to war, many with children in tow. The air was sombre and acrid with fear and despair and Louis supposed it was the first separation for many of these people. He had both the advantage and disadvantage of having been here several times now. It never got easier, especially when the deployment was in a frontline zone. The news had already reported 14 soldiers deaths since the start of the new offence. This wasn't just deployment for exercises in the Gulf - this was the _real_ thing.

Cole took them all aside, one by one, for a final farewell. Louis was the third to go and it was as hard as it was the last time. Cole put one arm around his neck and rested their foreheads together, mumbling, "You know the drill."

"Yeah," Louis choked and recited their ultra lame poem in a shaky breath, "be there for Amelia, no goodbyes but a _see ya_ , think only of your existence, not of the distance, your name is a numeral, no black at the funeral but hopefully it's fate that I'll see you at the gate... as planned."

"Good lad," Cole nodded and changed their embrace into a tight hug. The rough bulk of his desert combat uniform smelled like gun oil and earth and it made Louis feel nauseous. He lifted his face up, staring at the road behind instead.

"Be safe, please," he pleaded, "be as safe as you can be."

"I'll try," promised Cole, "Love you, mate."

"Love you too."

After a moment Louis pulled back and took one final mental picture of his friend's face before nodding firmly. Short and sweet until their next meet. This was their routine and it hadn't let them down before. He patted Cole's upper arm one more time and turned around. However, as he started to walk back towards the group, Cole broke tradition and called out after him, "Oh and Louis?"

"Yeah?" He turned around in surprise.

Cole's expression was unreadable. "I'm rooting for Larry."

Louis frowned, wondering if he had misheard. Who on earth was Larry? Or had he said Harry? He didn't the chance to ask because Cole's mum already had her son's full attention and he couldn't bear to interrupt that. Zayn and Liam, both red eyed, welcomed him back into their huddle and there they stayed until Cole had marched well out of sight of the leaving party.

~*~

"How did it go?" Harry asked quietly. Louis sighed, huddling further under the blanket and readjusting the angle of his laptop screen. The rain thrumming against the roof on Harry's end was faintly audible in the background as was the whipping wind. Thankfully it was just a small storm and not a hurricane but it sounded quite wild. It was also playing havoc with the internet connection.

"It was hard, like always," he croaked, voice shot to hell from holding back his emotions all day. "At least this will be the last time."

"Yeah, that's something at least... I wish I could have been there," Harry sounded like he was about to cry himself. "But..."

"I know," Louis said softly, knowing Harry was frustrated that they wouldn't change his shooting schedule for two measley days, "and Cole knew too. He said you'd sort of said your goodbyes in person when they left on their honeymoon."

"It wasn't a _goodbye_ ," Harry muttered darkly. "But yes, we did. Sorta. You know what it's like. You do the thing and it's only later that you think back and wish you'd said something more or different."

"Yeah, I know that feeling well..." Louis swallowed hard and looked away towards the window. He wished he could be as confident as Haz. Ever since he'd watched Cole march away he'd had this weird sort of itchy sadness in his bones, like he was watching a war documentary where they never told you the ending fate of the soldiers shown in illustration but you could guess it given the subject. "He's going to be fine, isn't he?"

"Yeah. Yeah he is," said Harry firmly, with more force than was entirely necessary for the quietness between them, "not even a question."

"Okay," said Louis quickly, feeling scolded.

Harry's expression immediately softened and his thumb reached out, filling the screen, like he running it down Louis's cheek, "hey..." he soothed, "remember, the first day is always the worst, tomorrow the doubts will start to leave and after a week you can start counting down the days. I know it's hard but you have to have faith. Why don't you try and get some sleep, yeah? It'll help take your mind off it for a while."

Louis sighed, doubting he'd be able to switch off his brain. Still, he wasn't in the mood to argue. "Yeah. Okay."

Harry was right, of course. It took a while but he eventually did manage to sleep and the next day he got up, got dressed, had breakfast and went to work as per usual. While Cole lingered in the back of his mind he had obligations to deal with that stopped him from obsessing over 'what ifs'. Also, Perrie refused to change the radio channel in the lab so his desire for constant Syria updates was denied, reducing his worry-mongering even more. The thing was, it's what Cole would have wanted anyway. It's why they had come up with their lame send-off poem in the first place - a reminder to not let his absence cast a shadow on their happiness.   
However, he couldn't help himself from stopping by Amelia's after work; just to make sure she was okay. It turned out to be the best idea he'd had all day as the relief in her eyes told a hell of a lot more than her fake 'don't worry about little old me, I'm fine' speech before she let him in. Over a shared takeaway, she passed on the news that Cole had arrived at the Syrian base safely and seemed to have settled in okay too. He had said it was hotter than the sun there and some of them were already getting burnt and it may turn out to be more a holiday than a mission. With that good news, Louis relaxed even more.

~*~

MAY

Cole had not chosen Louis as his bestman for two reasons 1) at Louis's own suggestion, when asked his opinion, that it maybe shouldn't be any of his school friends as it would be unfair to pick just one of them (plus, he was just as close to his army buddies) and 2) Zayn had already asked him to be _his_. That had been one of the most poignant moments in Louis's life and even now it still brought a lump to his throat. It was one thing joking about it as teenagers but, in reality, it was a whole new emotional affair to deal with when facing it for real. After all, there were a lot of eligible contenders for the role, not just Liam, Niall, Cole and Harry but also a contingent of uncles and cousins of whom Zayn was really close to. So Louis was really touched at being chosen - so much so he may have shed a tear or two and initiated a few too many bro-hugs to be entirely cool. Luckily Zayn was a sensitive soul too and got emotional in return at how much Louis was genuinely moved by the offer. Thank goodness nobody else was around to see that mess.

Now though, Louis was wondering if maybe Zayn was trying to punish him for some kind of wrongdoing instead. As head of the groomsmen he had a lot of responsibilities - A LOT and he was starting to lose track. On the day of wedding he was to play one of the main hosts as well as Zayn's assistant. From helping the groom get dressed and keeping him sane to minding the rings, he also had to greet the guests, organise the groomsmen for the ceremony, pay the muscians, walk folk down the aisle, peform introductions at the reception, dance with various members of the wedding party, deliver an iconic speech and then organise the honeymoon send off. All that was just on the actual day.

Before the wedding he had a lot of other duties to fulfil which included helping with all of the groom's side of the wedding planning _and_ to single-handedly arrange the most awesome of stag nights. Those two items, alone, were no mean feat. On top of that he, traditionally, had to double-check all the wedding reservations, the transport hires and help book any out-of-towners into hotels or situate them in people's houses for the duration. For that to happen he had to work closely with Perrie's mum, Deborah, who he was now slightly scared of. She was so determined to make sure her only daughter's wedding was picture perfect that she had morphed into the sweetest of little ladies into some kind of manic barking terrier. Louis had since changed her personal ring tone on his phone to the theme from 'Dead Silence' to give him warning whenever she was about to call.

Today was the first fitting of the wedding suits and Louis had taken the day off work specially so that he could oversee everyone's fitting, from page boy to Zayn's father - the latter of which would have a Salwar Kameez tailored to match the groomsmen's suits instead of the standard western trouser and jacket style. Louis was a little bit jealous to be honest, he'd much rather that that his stuffy waistcoat and jacket but tradition must etc etc.

Louis, in a moment of genius, had staggered everyone's appointments at forty-five minute intervals so that they all didn't descend enmasse and crowd the small shop. The two page boys, Perrie's little cousins, were cute but squirmy and Niall, when he eventually turned up, was even worse. Louis had to come up with all sorts of tricks and bribes to get them to stand still but eventually found that letting them get pricked by pins was the most effective method of cooperation. One by one the groomsmen traipsed in and by one o'clock Louis was just about at his wits end with boredom. So he was very glad when Sandro announced Liam was finished and it was just Zayn and himself left to go. To make the already long day feel even longer though, Oli, who "worked" in the shop along with his father, returned from the bank run and was clearly in bouncing spirits, which was sure to quickly get on everyone's nerves.

"Il mio Campardre, quel vestito sembra magnifique su di voi - così bello, così bello!" he sang out in a terrible Italian attempt - as he flounced into the dressing room.

Zayn rolled his eyes as he tugged on the jacket's sleeves, checking it's fit, "Mate, your Italian is so bad that your Grandfather is probably turning in his grave." He twisted from side to side, checking his reflection in the mirror.

Louis looked up from where he was buttoning his own shirt, "And," he added dryly, "for reference, neither _Compardre_ nor _magnifique_ are Italian words."

Zayn snorted and Oli made a crude hand gesture that was multiplied in the array of surrounding mirrors. Just then, the floor creaked and Sandro reappeared. He gave Oli a hard look that had the younger lad scrambling back out onto the shop floor, where he was meant to be supervising the till.

"If he wasn't family, I'd have fired him long ago," Sandro muttered darkly as he put his toolbox down on the small work-stool beside Zayn. A measuring tape had been slung around his neck like a scarf, a habit that never failed to make Louis smile. He'd been on good terms with the Donatis for a long time now - ever since he'd come in to the shop for his first adult tuxedo some 11 years ago. Their suits and tailoring were exceptionally fine and worthy a respectable nod by the fashion hounds, even if they weren't located on Savile Row. His Grandfather had been a customer for over forty years - choosing them whenever he wanted a well-fitting suit for a quarter of the price of a top-end Brioni or Ralph Lauren.

"Ah, give him a break," Emil spoke up from the table where he was hunched over Louis's suit jacket, checking seams, "he's been on a high all day, ever since that girl from the Halifax agreed to go out with him."

Louis and Zayn shared a look of disbelief, " _No way_!" they said together, while Sandro swore softly in Italian.

"Hard to believe, I know," Emil nodded, "but it's true. Happened right this morning."

"Holy shit," Zayn muttered, shaking his head, then laughed outloud, "God help her."

For four years Oli had sustained a _comically_ large crush on a pretty Asian girl who worked the business counter in the bank down the street. For four years he'd purposely done the shop's money-run in the morning just so he could chat her up and ask her out. For four years she had declined every single time, and Louis felt (perhaps a bit harshly) with good reason. Oli wasn't exactly the most reliable of blokes or the most skilled or the most refined. That was a reason the family only let him man the shop floor and, even then, he was pretty poor at that. Louis supposed he would greatly help himself if he cut down on the pot and unglued himself from his phone - that way he would look less unattentive and vacant. It might also help his career if he tried to look the part too - like wear a suit instead of his old school trousers and shirt. After all, he worked in a bloody Tailor shop! He should be advertising the shop's brand. "I wonder what changed her mind?" he mused.

Emil chuckled and stood up, beckoning Louis to try on the jacket he'd been tacking. "I guess four years of continuous courtship will wear anyone down. If she sticks around after the first date she might be just the thing to help settle him down into reality."

"That'll _never_ happen," Sandro grunted, carefully sliding a few pins into the cuff of Zayn's sleeve. "Right," he clucked his tongue, "Perfect, I just need to make a small adjustment to your other cuff and then you're free to go. If you make an appointment with Romeo out there for another fitting about a week before the wedding, we can make any last minute alterations necessary."

"Fantastic," said Zayn happily, "Thanks Sandro." He glanced at his watch, "Uh... I have to meet Perrie at the florists in half an hour..." He looked uncertainly at Louis who was still being pinned up and had at least another fifteen minutes of prep work left.

Louis smiled at him, figuring Zayn was wondering if he had to stay until Louis was finished too and whether that would make him late. "I'm fine here, mate. Just go when you're ready."

Zayn breathed out a sigh of relief and patted his elbow, "Thanks, man."

"Hey Louis?" Oli poked his head around the door, cordless phone in hand, "I've got the mother of the bride on the phone for you."

At Zayn's perplexed look, Louis whispered, "She's got me on a short leash. I have to report everything to her." As Zayn's eyebrows rose even higher, Louis defended himself with a plaintive, "Hey, she's a formidable lady. I had little choice in the matter. You try telling her no." He turned back to Oli and took the phone with a, "Thanks mate... Hello Mrs Edwards, Louis speaking." He couldn't help but wince at the flurry of panicked speaking that followed. It took a minute but he seemed to get the jist - she was worried about them forgetting about the page boys' shoes. "No, no," he cut in, "it's all fine I promise - we ordered them online. Perrie thought it would be silly to get them anything too expensive since kid's feet grow so fast... uh huh... uh huh..." He sent a pleading look towards Zayn who shook his head with a snigger as if to say 'nope, she's all yours mate'. Louis tuned back into the call just in time hear Deborah ask him how they were getting on. "Just Zayn and myself left," he replied. "They've got Zayn's all pinned up now and Emil's just finishing my jacket. Yeah, yeah, we're to come back a week before the wedding for the final fitting so it's all good this end. Right... yes... yes... will do... okay... yeah bye Mrs Edwards." He hung up sharpish and shook his head at Zayn, "Good luck mate. If she's this involved now just wait until she gets grandchildren."

~*~

When he got back home from the tailor's, Louis decided he really ought to attempt to get some of his speech written. He'd been at it for months now and had yet to get past 'Good evening ladies and gentlemen." It wasn't that he was bad at writing per sae; it was more that he just didn't know what tone to take given the audience. The last thing he wanted to do was offend sensitive ears with an imprudent story or joke. So, like most people these days, when one needed some help on an issue, he turned to the internet. He was sure there would be something useful on there - it was just finding it that might be difficult. With a cup of tea and half a chicken sandwich on hand, Louis sat himself and his laptop at the kitchen table and typed 'best man speeches' into Google.

There were lots of sites which offered help and samples, although most of them charged to see beyond a snippet. Pulling out his wallet he paid a month's subscription to the one that looked the best and to his pleasant surprise the content _was_ actually worth the money.

He was about an hour in, with three rough paragraphs under his belt, when his phone chirped. Rifling it out of his pocket he grinned when he saw Harry's name flashing. _Nick just went arse over tit acting the twat on a railing_! _Is now_ s _itting on ice_ :D A second text follow a moment later. _He thinks his dick might be broken *ROFL CMEO*_ Followed by a swift third, _I may have just pulled a muscle laughing_. Louis giggled to himself, taking a sweet moment to envision the scene. Nick v Railing: swing, slip, crunch, squeal, cry + sweet, hilarious, vindictive pleasure. Christ, he'd pay good money to see the smug smile wiped off Grimshaw's smarmy face.

 ** _Oh dear oh dear_** , he typed back, **_no lasting damage I hope?_** It took a few minutes for the reply to come through, _nah - just bruised up_. Louis couldn't help himself _, **shame... the world could have been saved from his future offspring :P**_ _Now now_ , said Harry, _no need to be mean_ _:P_ There was a minute's pause and then, _What you up to anyway? **Writing my speech - or attempting to.** Oh cool! How's it going? **Slow.** _**:( _It's hard to find a balance between funny and overshare._** _Whatever you do don't tell the Jameos Hotel story. Zayn might act. kill you. **Yeah I steered clear of that LOL.** **I'd like to see another Xmas.** **You filming right now?** Yeah, filming at a park near the w.front of La Datcha. beautiful even when damp **. Storm over then?** Yeah. Locals r worried tho that it's a bad omen for Hurricane season. **Yikes** _ :S _Ugh, it's so hot RN I think my balls have melted_. **_Lucky bastard._** _**F'n peeing down here**_ **_and it's cold!_**

After a few minutes of silence Louis went back to work. Such was the way of filming that Harry often got called away at random times and Louis had learned not to wait on tenterhooks whenever they were texting. It could be minutes or it could be hours before Harry replied.

He had just discovered a reasonably clean joke he could add in when his phone chirped to alert him to another new message. It was a picture this time. Curious, he opened it - not knowing what to expect and half hoping it was a picture of Nick sitting on ice. He pouted, though, when his screen filled with a brightly coloured image of a cafe table sitting in the forefront of a glorious white Caribbean beach. On the table were two glasses filled with some random freshly squeezed fruity concoction and overflowing with glittery adornments. Underneath was a tag that said, 'thinking of you'. **_:( you're just trying to make me sad_** He'd barely put his phone down again when he received yet another picture. This time he threw his head back and laughed. It was a picture of Nick sitting precariously on a bag of ice, his expression one of agony. He saved it to his phone and typed back **_2 lols 4 the price of 1 - when that melts it'll look like he's pissed himself haha!_** Once again it took Harry a while to reply but then, _Nick's rply 2 u is 2 vulgar 2 repeat. Gist: go away n sumfing abt ur mum_. Louis snorted and replied, **_Very original 'knickerless'._** Then, after a few seconds, he sent another text asking ** _, Oh, just remembered, did you ask Bakikisst about time off_?** _Lol & yes, I have an appt with him this a/noon 2 discuss_. **_OK, let me know what he says_.**

~*~

EARLY JUNE

"I'm pregnant!" Amelia's voice echoed around the office. Everyone on the giant screen went silent in shock as Louis's heart stopped dead in horror mid excited squeal. He had accidentally hit speakerphone when sneakily taking her call. _Oh fuck!_  
It had been an arse-achingly tedious video conference so he'd let Perrie lead the last fifteen minutes while he procrastinated off-camera. When he had received Amelia's call he had answered quietly, reclining in his chair with his feet up on the desk. As he did so his foot nudged the phone base and depressed some of the buttons. That is why the entire conference had just heard her news.   
Poor Amelia must have heard the drop in the background noise because she said, "Um... did I say that too loud? Who else is in the office? Who else heard that?" Louis couldn't speak, the words choking in his throat. "Louis? Are you there?"  
"Uh, hi Amelia" Perrie spoke up, sounding strangled from a mix of disbelief and hysteria, "it's Pez... um... I think Louis is currently having an aneurism at the moment. We're... uh... kinda in the middle of a video conference right now and he just accidentally hit the speakerphone. So um... everyone just heard you but... uh... congratulations! To you and Cole!" she squeaked. "That's amazing news! I'm so excited for you both!"  
"Yes, congratulations," one of the floating heads on the screen agreed, making them all jump. "I don't know who you are but I wish you and your baby the best of health." He was echoed by the other floating heads and that was how Amelia spent quarter of an hour getting congratulations and advice from six complete strangers in Switzerland. In that time Louis managed to find his tongue and apologised profusely to which she called him "an adorable plonker" but reassured him that he wasn't out of the running for Godparent. This brought on a wave of discussion about how many Godparents were practical along with a host of personal stories, which was much more amusing than the previous topic of date configuration. Eventually the topic drew to a close when Amelia said she ought to go and apologised for interrupting the conference, to which everyone quickly reassured her it was a nice welcome surprise. The conference, itself, then wrapped up quickly after that and Louis stopped by the Borough Market on the way home for a big bunch of flowers as a congratulations-come-massive-apology for her. Amelia chuckled when she saw him on her doorstep and pulled him into a hug as he immediately burst into apologetic verbal diarrhoea.   
"It's _really_ okay, love," she assured him, "I mean, I'm not going to lie, it was nice getting fawned over _and_ they did give me some great advice. However, please note that this will be something I will tease you about for years to come."  
Louis pulled back, flushing sheepishly, "I deserve it. Can I at least cook you dinner to make up for it? I bought some lamb chops at the Borough Market - enough for two." He held up the plastic back hopefully.  
"Like I'm going to turn down a free meal," she snorted as she stepped back, "the kitchen is all yours love - just try not to give Harley too many tidbits though - he's been spoiled rotton today already. I don't really want him having digestive issues all night."  
Louis grinned and shut the door the door behind himself, "I promise - although don't blame me if he falls into one of his week-long sulks." The dog in question made an appearence at that moment and yipped excitedly, bounding over, when he realised who the visitor was. "Hey boy!" Louis greeted, kneeling down to pat him, "Did you have itchy ears? Aww... who's a good boy then. Who's a good boy."  
Harley didn't sulk when denied tidbits but he did watch on with intense attention - no doubt ready to spring should something roll off the chopping board. Amelia and Louis talked all about the pregnancy as he cooked. She had him wincing sympathetically with some of her not-so-pleasant symptoms and laughing about others. The baby, he learned, was due on the 30th December which meant Cole should make it back in time for the birth. Of course, the father had known for a long while now - Amelia having called him as soon as she had taken four home pregnancy tests. It was only now that she was safely over the 3 month mark (and had a sonogram picture which Louis cooed over for a good fifteen minutes) that she had started to tell everyone else. He was pretty excited on their behalf. They would make great parents - firm, fair and loving - and he would be a very willing and very competent babysitter. Truth be told he _loved_ babies, always had - ever since he'd started getting an army of siblings - and babies seemed to love him in return. He had a knack for both calming them down and cheering them up, which many had taken advantage of in the past. In fact, Liam had often texted him in the middle of the morning, pleading for help with an inconsolable infant. Louis had instantly been right in there helping out - so much so that everyone still made jokes about him being broody. He knew it wouldn't be long until those jokes went up a notch but, honestly, he did not care.

~*~  
  
LATE JUNE

Figuring out what to do for Zayn's Stag-Do had been as difficult as trying to write the speech. Did they stay in the country or did they not? Did they have an all day event or did they just go out at night? If they went out at night did they go somewhere specific or did they tour around the city? Zayn really wasn't a drinker but he did love the occasional spliff _and_ smoked like a fecking chimney (both vices firmly frowned upon by his religion so Louis didn't known why he didn't go the whole hog and drink too). On the plus side, Zayn did like clubbing for the music so nightclubs weren't completely out the question - although pubs were. Was the night time music scene really good enough in London for a Bachelor party, especially when Zayn could (and) did go at anytime he liked. It would be like taking a cinema enthusiast to their local cinema for their birthday. Louis didn't think that was special enough. His thoughts then strayed to going somewhere outwith London but if they did that they might as well go abroad because if they travelled anywhere out of London they would need a hotel for the night anyway. His mind immediately went to the most logical place for clubbing and pot; Amsterdam. The problem with Amsterdam, though, was that it was such a clichéd choice. Almost all the guys he knew, who had been on a European trip to celebrate a stag, had gone to Amsterdam. Amsterdam was like a tradition - a rite of passage - and Louis had been several times before and it was... okay. Good even. But not... _wow_. The only difference between a night out in Amsterdam and a night out in London was the ability to smoke pot legally in public (which many people did anyway in London regardless of the law). Therefore, the thrill of Amsterdam really just came from being able to boast to another lad 'my stag party was in Amsterdam' and getting a cheeky wink and a backslap in return. Somehow, Louis didn't think Zayn would be type to care about that sort of kudos. So, like with his speech, he had turned to the internet for help. It took a while, as there were more options than he ever realised, but he finally settled on a location and used a 3rd party service to plan the full weekend out. Then, once he had the idea in place, he had to phone around all the lads to find out their availability and such became the dilemma of picking the right weekend. It wasn't long before Louis had resorted to mass group messages. Replies were staggered and it wasn't easy to make a decision as it turned out to be impossible to cater to everyone's schedule. In the end he managed to get a date that most people could make. Unfortunately, one of the two people who wanted to go but couldn't was Harry, much to both of their disappointments; the lad just couldn't get the time off. That was the problem of playing the lead role in a very popular series.

So the plans were made, the date was set and the bookings confirmed; all Louis had to do was pray everyone actually turned up and that nobody ruined the surprise by telling the groom the details. He also had to suffer the anxiety of worrying over whether Zayn would like the plans - something that kept him nauseous right up until the day. And that day was today. In the end it turned out he had worried for nothing.

Zayn's eyes widened as he looked at the destination on the ticket, "No way man," he choked out, looking up as though expecting Louis' to be silently laughing at his gullibility. When he saw Louis's straight expression he added, " _seriously_? Holy shit."

Louis nodded with a cautious grin, "Serious as a heart-attack, mate. One whole weekend in Budapest - complete with paintballing, quad biking, a dash of culture and some of the sickest clubs in Europe."

For a horrifying moment Louis was afraid Zayn was going to cry. Instead though, Zayn just blinked away the shine in his eyes and croaked, "Wow. This is too cool, man, thanks." Then he pulled Louis into a sideways hug and ruffled his hair "nawwww, I knew I chose you for a reason."

Pouting as he shook his head free, it had taken him twenty minutes to perfect his quiff today thank you very much, Louis slapped Zayn on the back with a robust, "Welcome mate," and steered him towards the airport entrance. "I take my duties as best man very seriously indeed. Now come on, the lads should already be waiting at the gate for us."

"The lads?" Zayn asked casually, clearly looking for a heads-up as to who else was coming along.

"You'll see," Louis replied with a private grin to himself, inordinately pleased for the success so far. _Stage 1: Zayn not disappointed with location and itinerary - check!_

When they arrived at gate 22 they were greeted by a loud roar of cheers and whoops and Zayn stopped short in surprise. He probably wasn't expecting quite so many of the lads to be there - not for a Stag Do that required travelling outwith the country. To his delight, he felt Zayn squeeze his wrist in an 'I'm so touched that you got so many to come along, thank you' kind of why and tried not to get emotional himself. Standing back, he watched for a moment as Zayn beamed at them all and shared a few delighted hugs with his cousins, who he had certainly not expected to attend. He was even more shocked when he realised Perrie's brother and two of their cousins, Kurtis and Jake, were also in attendance. Their presence signified quietly that they were actively interested in getting to know him better and viewed his addition to their family in a positive manner. "Christ Lou," Zayn laughed, although it was heavy with emotion, "Has Budapest got room for all of us, how many are actually going?"

"Twelve altogether," said Louis, mentally counting them all off, "and you'll be glad to know that Andy couldn't make it. Neither could Oli."

"Was Andy even invited?" Liam muttered, frowning at the reminder that many of them didn't get on that well with his childhood friend. He had long ago came to terms with it, even understood where they were coming from, but it still wasn't fun to hear that it was one of _your_ friends that the others didn't like.

"Yeah, he was," Louis shrugged, "but he couldn't make it unfortunately." He bit back adding that he had made sure to pick a date when he knew Andy wouldn't be able to come - it was unfortunate that he couldn't do the same for Oli, who was available whenever. Over Liam's head, he saw Zayn give him the thumbs up, as did Stan. Louis sent them an acknowledging nod and then said, "the only other person who couldn't make it is Harry and he sends his utmost apologies. It was either get the time off for this or risk not finishing in time for the wedding and he was too afraid of Perrie to risk missing the wedding." There was a small round of laughter at this and Louis's smile was only half-forced as he added, "He also said he would make it up to you by getting you the coolest wedding present ever. And, from what he told me, I think marrying Perrie might actually come second to what Harry's planning."

"S'cool," Zayn shrugged, already whipping out his phone to text their missing friend, "it would have been impossible for everyone to have made it. Not going to say no to an ace present though. Last time he got me an apology gift it was a pair of Hifiman HE6s. Those are worth a thousand apologies so I actually think I owe him about nine hundred passes before I hold something against him again."

"To be honest, I think he's holding it against himself."

While Zayn texted Harry, reassuring him that his absence wasn't detrimental to their friendship, Louis set about the last minute checks. "Okay gentlemen," he rallied, "gather round. Let's take an attendance sheet to make sure we're all here." He flipped through his notepad to the finalised list of names, "Niall?" "Here!" "Ant?" "Here!" "Liam?" "Here." "Mo?" "Here, _sir_!" Louis looked up with a smirk, " _Nice_... flattery gets you everywhere - a window seat is yours." There was a groan from the rest of the group, namely Niall, Liam and Ant - the latter of whom elbowed Mo in the ribs with a "suck up." Louis turned a blind eye on the scene before he could witness the nut-crunch retaliation. He'd hate to have to revoke the window seat privilege. "Jonnie?" "Present Almighty one." Louis sent him a glare over the clipboard, "Nice try Jo-Jo. Sarcasm gets you the toilet seat. Jawaad?" "Here, mate." "Amir?" "Here," "Shariq?" "Yo." "Kurtis?" "Ay." "Jake?" "Present _miss_." Louis felt his look should have melted the cheeky bugger on the spot, "Very droll, for that you get the seat to Chunky McChuckerson over there." He pointed to Ant who was well known for getting travel sick. Obviously Jake had been forewarned as he went pale. Louis smiled at him sweetly and just because he liked seeing others sweat, he decided to wait until they were on board before informing him that Ant had already been seated by himself. Instead, he looked back to his list and finished with, "Zayn and... myself." He drew a smiley face at the bottom - all present and correct. "Okay, great. Has everyone got their tickets and passports?" There was a show of tickets and passports being waved in the air. "Wallets and phones?" There was a pause before a collective frantic pat down and bag search ensued. Everyone quickly discovered they hadn't forgotten their essentials though - so no cause for panic yet. "Right," Louis clapped his hands together, "one last thing before we board, can everyone please swap numbers with everyone else. If we get separated for some reason then it's better that we're not limited to who we can get in touch with. After this weekend, if any of you fall out bad enough to warrant a complete cut of all ties, then you may delete whosever number you wish the moment we get back here. Okay?"

The lads nodded and Liam led the way through an organised exchange of numbers. Louis, who already had everyone's number, busied himself with checking he had all their hotel and booking information for the thousandth time. Everything was still in the folder as expected and he allowed himself a moment to think 'hey, I'm not half bad at this organisation malarkey.'

Once all the numbers were swapped, Louis slipped his phone away and picked up his carry-on, "Right lads, let's go party!"

~*~

 **Paintball is evil.** _  
LOL why?_   
**My arse is bruised, can barely sit** , Louis whined, adding a grumpy emoticon to the end. _  
Ooh, I'd love to rub it better for you ;)  
_**Haha** Louis rolled his eyes. He should have known better than to give his friend that kind opening. _  
I'm deadly serious!  
_**I don't want to know about your pevrerted fantasieies!** _  
Pevrerted fantasieies? :P u need to slow down with the drinks there pal  
LOL u only start spelling bad when ur abs. wasted._  
**Am not wasted >:(** **Just very merry!** **:D :D XX**  
_OK ;P_ _Where are you now? Still at the Vice?  
_**Just got to a new club.** **Fab Mo's...?**   
**Fat Mo's...** **something.** _  
Everyone having a good time?_  
**Yeah - brill! :D** __  
OK, well u go have fun with them darling. I'm off for dinner xx  
**Okay, have a good one xxx  
** xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Louis slipped his phone into his pocket with a fond shake of his head and looked around for someone he knew. Stan suddenly appeared out of the crowd shouting, "This is fucking awesome!" as he bounced along to the beat. Louis chuckled as his friend then jump right back into the throng, getting instantly lost amongst the thrusting arms. On the far side of the club he could see Zayn was still in the DJ booth. He was going through the DJs stockpile and picking out sleeves in awe like they were made of gold. The DJ, someone Zayn seemingly had high respect for, had recognised him from some random party in the past and had invited him up to the decks. Louis had never seen his friend move so fast in his life and it was great to see him having such a good time.

The others had dispersed themselves quite evenly - either dancing, drinking or chatting-up the natives. Louis, having grown quite tired and sore as the clock ticked closer to 2am, decided to prop up one of the quieter bars where the music was loud but you could still hear the bartender speak. He chose an empty stool and perched on it delicately, trying not to put pressure on his bruises.

"Tudok egy italra?" Louis startled as a youngish guy suddenly sat down on the empty stool beside him. At a quick glance, Louis reckoned the guy was probably at least in his mid-twenties, judging by the youth of his face with the maturity of his stature. He was rather good looking, almost startlingly so. Offhandedly, he wondered if he would be Harry's type. The guy had that classic dark and handsome look - oddly similar to that of one of Harry's ex co-stars, Travis Caldwell. Travis had been one of those people Louis had both liked and loathed out of asthetic admiration and jealousy.  
The man on the stool offered a charming smile as he waited for Louis' answer to... whatever it was he'd asked. Louis quickly shook his thoughts away, "Uh, sorry?" he replied, in what he hoped sounded like a sincere apologetic tone, "I don't speak Hungarian."

"Ah, you is English?" the guy replied in a heavy accent, nodding.

It was more a statement than a question but Louis answered anyway. "Yes. Sorry." He didn't know why he suddenly felt a rush of shyness. It might have been the way the guy was unsubtely eying him up and down.

"That is cool," the guy shrugged, smiling even more, evidently liking what he saw and heard. "You is on holiday here?"

"Yeah. Sort of," Louis nodded, a little awkwardly, he was bad at small talk outwith the office, "Stag night for my best friend."

"Saag night..." the guy seemed to be searching in his head for a translation, "oh, you mean Bachelor party?" Louis smiled and nodded to which the guy casted a hesitant look to the far off soundbooth and then back at Louis as though piecing together a puzzle. "You is with Zayn Malik?"

Louis, admittedly, was taken aback, "Yeah," he said slowly, "how did you know that?"

"I know d' DJ," the guy shrugged, flashing a crew badge clipped onto his trouser pocket. "Zayn is with him now. He mentioned he was on his bachelor night out."

"Oh right," Louis nodded in relief, glad this wasn't some weirdo with too much information, "yeah, I'm Zayn's best man."

"Ah," the guy's expression lit up even more, "the right hand man! This was your doing then?" He gestured to the club.

Louis smiled and nodded again, "Yeah, it was my idea. I wanted something that Zayn would enjoy and remember."

"You picked the right place then. Budapest has a good nightscene and he is having a great time up there."

They both looked over to the far booth and watched as Zayn laughed delightedly as he waved whatever was in his hand around like it was something to be deeply admired.

"His is," Louis agreed, once again feeling pleased with himself.

"So... best man..." the guy leaned closer, close enough Louis could smell his aftershave, it was sharp, "can I buy you a drink?"

"Uh..." Louis felt his face heat up because that sounded like a line. Holy shit. He wasn't prepared for this. "I... uh... I... um..."

"Ah," the guy ducked his head, suddenly sheepish "you is uncomfortable because..." he peeked up with a wince, "you is straight?"

"Um... well... I wouldn't quite put it like that," Louis hedged, not wanting to come across as some kind of intolerant arsehole who couldn't take a bloke chatting him up without getting offended. That was far from the truth and the guy seemed harmless enough. Cute even. "It's more like I've never really been in this situation before..." he winced as he suddenly realised he might have assumed wrong and that it hadn't been a chat-up line and more a friendly gesture, "that is, if you were flirting with me?"

The guy's expression brightened, "I find it difficult to believe someone as good looking as you has not been hit on by a guy before," Louis flushed at the compliment and ducked his head a little, "but you seem cautiously open to the idea so... there may be room for negotiation? Yes?" the guy raised an eyebrow in a cheeky yet hopeful manner.

Louis couldn't help but chuckle. There was something rather likeable about this brave gent; he had Harry's cheeky sense of humour, an attractive personality and Louis couldn't quite find it inside himself to shut the guy down just yet. "Maybe... but I wouldn't get your hopes up too high." _What the hell am I doing?! Abort! Abort!_

"Well," the guy straightened up in his seat and tapped the counter for the bartender's attention, "if you don't mind, my name is Aron and I would like to buy you a drink _and_..." he grinned mischievously, "try my luck?"

Blushing hard and unable to think of a suitable reply, Louis could do nothing but nod and accept.

_Twenty minutes later..._

"Okay, okay," Louis giggled, shuffling forward on the stool, "here's a _really_ terrible one; a guy goes to see a psychiatrist wearing shorts made of cling-film. The psychiatrist takes one look at him and says, Well, I can clearly see you're nuts!"

Aron burst out laughing, slapping at his thigh, "Tis a good one! Tis very good! Haha."

Louis grinned proudly and leaned forward to attract the bartender's attention again. Only he leant too far and nearly toppled off the stool.

"Hoppá! Careful there," Aron giggled, steadying Louis with two firm hands on his upper arms so he didn't end up braining himself on the counter.

"Oops," said Louis, after straightening up. He then lowered his voice conspiratorially, beckoning Aron forward, "I think I may be a little tipsy."

Aron leaned further in like they were sharing a secret and held a finger to his lips, "Sssh," he quickly looked about for listeners in, "but I think I may be too."

Their eyes met and they immediately broke into giggles again. Louis hadn't felt this alive in months.

"You know," Aron said, as their chuckles naturally petered out. Neither had pulled away so Louis could smell the Frissitők on Aron's breath, it was oddly compelling. "You have really lovely eyes."

"Oh," Louis's stomach swooped and he flushed at the compliment, "um, thanks." For some reason his heart rate had just picked up. Women said this to him all the time but it never really seemed to mean anything to him - it always felt so cheesy. Coming from Aron, though, it felt... strangely intimate.

"Your smile too, it's... csábító."

Louis had no idea what that word meant but it sounded pretty seductive in Aron's low, slow voice, "Mr Aron," he responded throatily, batting his eyelashes in a ridiculous manner, "are you trying to chat me up? I must have you know I'm not that sort of man."

Aron pressed forward a little more, his expression growing soft and Louis's humour faded, "what if _I_ am?" The hazel of his eyes was oddly mesmerising. Louis stared into them, enthralled by their soothing yet challenging depths. He had never backed down from a challenge before. Aron leaned even closer and Louis shut his eyes as warm breath brushed against his lips, sweet and damp. Heart throbbing in his throat, he briefly wondered what the hell he doing? _What if_ \- but then soft lips were brushing against his own and Louis was flung back fifteen years. _Oh my god, I'm getting kissed, by a guy, what do I do, what do I do?_ Uncertainly, he reached out to rest a hand at the back of Aron's head, held him in and tried to relax. It was... definitely different to kissing a woman but... it was also kinda nice. _Really_ nice actually. Aron broke their connection for a second, as though to gauge his reaction, before capturing his lips again, firmer this time, more confident by Louis's lack of protest. The rough brush of the guy's stubble made Louis giggle in his throat but he opened up when Aron's mouth begged and began to reciprocate the kiss by meeting Aron's tongue with his own. It made him feel naughty. _Very_ naughty and kind of high on life. Oh yeah, he could definitely go for more of this - a whole night of this, maybe forever. Eventually, though, Aron pulled back, pecking him once and smiling, "Okay?"

"Y...yeah," Louis breathed out honestly, surprised. "Yeah, I-"

"Louis?" Both of them snapped their heads around in surprise. It was Liam and he looked more than a little shell-shocked. Suddenly Louis' heart started pounding for a completely different reason. _Oh god, Liam saw that, oh god._ "Um..." Liam sounded like he was having trouble forming words, "Zayn just scored us some VIP tickets for another club... everyone's getting ready to move on."

"Oh," Louis looked to Aron uncertainly, feeling a rush of disappointment. "Um..."

Aron sighed and offered a resigned smile, "Alas, I must stay and help Laszlo pack up. I'm being paid."

"Oh," Louis felt a wave an even larger wave of disappointment crush his chest. This little meet-cute was effectively over before it could even get started.

Aron seemed to notice and smiled again, shrugging in a way that said 'what can you do', "It's okay. I had a good time. It was lovely to meet you Louis, köszönet for your company. Maybe we bump into each other again if you are ever back in Budapest?"

"Yeah..." Louis knew that him being in Budapest again anytime soon wasn't very likely at all and it was a bit gutting. "Well, um... thanks? I had a good time too." And then, with all the courage he could muster, especially with Liam standing there gawking, Louis leant in and kissed Aron again, this time as a goodbye.

~*~

THE NEXT DAY

It was a very hung-over and bleary-eyed stag party that stumbled their way back through the Heathrow terminal the following afternoon.

As they stood at the carousel, morbidly awaiting their bags, Jake couldn't help but grunt, "Fuck, I think I'm dying... but that was, hands down, the best stag party ever. Pálinka!"

A weak but heartfelt echoing cheer arose around him, "Pálinka!"

Louis, though it hurt him and his throbbing head and churning stomach, grinned broadly with pride. He was _da master_ at this best-man thing.

"Mate, I love you, thanks for the best weekend ever," Zayn croaked, offering his fist for Louis to bump. He looked pale and drawn, like he'd only had about three hours sleep - which was probably about accurate. He also looked like he'd had the time of his life despite it.

"Love you too," Louis replied, patting his back gently. "Now let's go home and sleep for a century."

"Amen."

As soon as his case came into view he hefted it off the conveyor belt with a groan. It was then that Liam tugged on his arm, waving his phone with a frustrated sigh, "Sorry Lou, Sophia forgot to drop your housekeys off at Amelia's. Want to get a lift back with me and just kip at ours for the day? You can use the guest room instead of the sofa now that the room is finished?"

The thought of the feather soft cloud that was the Payne's guest mattress, plus Sophia's amazing cooking, the chance of seeing the boys _and_ the opportunity to avoid any more public transport, had Louis agreeing in an instant. So what if he was a little late to the office in the morning? He was virtually his own boss!

After a final goodbye to all the lads, he and Liam trudged morbidly along their seperate way, each step a growing torture for their exhausted bodies. Sophia met them at the main entrance, annoyingly peppy, and the subsequent walk to the car park seemed unfairly long and painful in the blinding summer sunlight and her cheerful conversation.

When he slid into the back of the Paynes' car, humming sleepily as he listened to Liam and Sophia bicker as they put the bags in the boot, Louis pulled out his phone. There were no new messages but he wasn't expecting any anyway. He'd literally just said goodbye to all his friends. All bar one, of course, but he ought to be tucked up in bed asleep at this moment in time, given it was a Sunday. Guadeloupe may only be four hours behind the UK but with Harry's penchant for sleeping till at least 10 on his days off, Louis was sure he'd still be out cold. Still, he had made a promise and with an odd unsettling feeling of guilt he typed out. **Just landed _._** Then added _,_ **Never drinking again.** Closing his eyes, he sank back into the leather seat with a sigh, wishing his head would stop pounding. As though closing his eyes opened his memory's floodgates, he flashbacked over the weekend's events eventually landing on the most sensational of moments; he had kissed a guy and quite liked it. That was definitely new. Was it something he needed to obsess over, though? Tough if it was, he was in no shape to do much more than sleep right now. Although there was a good chance Liam would try to have some kind of awkward discussion about what he'd seen. Louis groaned inwardly at the mere thought. Those kinds of talks were usually brutal with Liam who liked to tease out every last thread of discussion. He hoped he could put that conversation off until at least tomorrow. There was no way he could take that kind of minefield right now.

As he was about to drift off, his hand vibrated. _LOL_ _Didn't u say that only 3mths ago?! Hope you all had a great time x_ Smiling despite himself, Louis typed back, **Great time. So many stories. Missed you tho :( Can't wait till you get home. Only 10 days! :D x 1000** He slipped his phone into the side pocket and allowed himself to finally doze off.

 

 

 


	7. Chapter 6

For being a high-end airport, London City was dark, cheerless, featureless and not somewhere you wanted to spend a long amount of time. For being a business that catered towards, well, _business_ and those that were rich enough to afford charter flights, they didn't really reflect it very well. There wasn't a lot of spend on luxury here. Louis shifted uncomfortably on the hard bench and adjusted his book as he took another sip of scalding hot tea. A quick glance up at the screen told him Harry's flight was _finally_ on the approach. He forced himself to refocus on the book though and ignore the giddy skip of his heart at having Harry back home again – this time for _more_ than two weeks! The anticipation had been building for the last fortnight but it was only over the last few days he'd allowed himself to finally acknowledge it. The floodgates of excitement that were opened when he did had unleashed a frenzy fit of house tidying; mass washing of sheets, scrubbing of bathrooms, whole housevacuuming, window washing, shelf dusting, DVD organising – you would think royalty was popping around, rather than – for all intents and purposes - a squatter. He glanced up at the screen again but it hadn't changed in the last seven seconds he'd last looked. Sighing, he lifted his book higher and started to read again, barely taking in a word.

Fifteen minutes later there was motion near the arrival door and Louis quickly put his book into his inner jacket pocket, no longer able to pretend. The screen now said Harry's flight had landed so this could very well be him coming through. Biting his lip and feeling giddy again, he stood up and threw his empty cup into the nearby rubbish bin before set off towards the gate to wait with the other handful of greeters. The first passenger to enter through the door was a young women and a group of three girls shrieked happily. Smiling, Louis watched them all embrace before turning his attention back to the door. The next two were business men, followed by a bikering couple. Harry ended up being the sixth person to step out and Louis let out an embarrassingly loud squeak of delight. Dressed in a gaping white shirt, navy three quarter length chinos and his celeb-stye black Raybans, Harry looked every inch the mega-TV star. He also looked twice as tanned as the last time he'd been home. How the hell, Louis had no clue considering the amount of rain the island had supposedly had recently. "Haz!"

Spotting him, Harry shoved his sunglasses up into his hair and strode towards him, beaming from ear to ear. They met in a tight hug, city-polluted Versace melding perfectly with stale airline Boss. "Ugh, it's so good to see you," Harry groaned, burying his face in Louis' shoulder.

"Likewise," Louis sighed as he slipped his fingers into Harry's curls. After a few long moments they pulled back and Louis asked how the flight was.

"Eh, not so great," Harry admitted, adjusting his shoulder bag, "there was quite a bit of turbulence half way through - made me feel a bit queasy, especially when the kid a few seats back spewed up."

"Ugh, I hate that," Louis sympathised, "although I usually find the transatlantic crossing a lot smoother than heading into Europe. I take it there was some bad weather?"

"Yeah, there's a big summer storm brewing up. It's heading west though so we probably won't see it."

"Good," Louis grinned, "I want a nice long hot summer."

It didn't take long for the luggage to be churned out – it had been a small flight with less than fifty passengers and the terminal wasn't exactly Heathrow either. Louis gathered the cases while Harry said goodbye to some of the filming crew who had also been on the small charter flight. Then, between them, they dragged Harry's four heavy suitcases out to the car, pausing only to bicker over who should pay the parking fee, "No, let me get it," Harry argued, trying to hold Louis away as he dug out his wallet, "you've already done me a big favour by fetching my car from Niall's _and_ coming to pick me up so I didn't have deal with public transport. The least I can do is pay for the car-parking." Although Louis had a parking permit for outside his house, which Harry had taken advantage of when living there, both had agreed it was best the car was off the road in his absence – hoping it would be less of an attraction for thieves or clumsy drivers. BMW X6s were not cheap cars to run, replace or get fixed. Even if money wasn't exactly an obstacle for Harry the principle was still valid, or so he thought anyway. Niall had long ago offered a space in his double garage when Harry was still living in his flat and had first gone out of the country on location. The car would probably return to Niall's garage in a few months when Harry left the country again. While it was technically Harry's vehicle, Louis, who actually had his own car (which he kept out of the city at his Grandfather's holiday home), had been added to the insurance last year for the sake of practicality. He rarely took advantage though because he hated driving in London with a passion. 

"Fine," he gave in with a dramatic sigh, "but for the record I was more than happy to do it." He dropped the handles of the cases until they were ready to continue on with their trek, "Also, it was kinda fun to get behind the wheel again, even if it meant I had to navigate the London traffic."  
Truth be told, the journey from Niall's house to here wasn't actually that bad. The traffic on the A2 and the A102 had been pretty sparse which took away a lot of the usual stress. He'd met the odd annoying whitevan man, one of which cut in front of him and stopped suddenly, causing Louis to brake so hard he probably left skid marks. Other than that it was pretty - dare he say it - relaxing? It was a scenic route from Niall's house in Dulwich across the city to the airport with some amazing panoramic views of the city. "Want me to drive back or do you?"

" _You_ , if you wouldn't mind?" Harry replied as he typed his pin into the machine. He straightened up with a yawn and offered Louis a bleary smile, "I think I'm too knackered to handle the cabbies and buses right now."

Louis chuckled, "You just don't want to admit you aren't sure of the way home."

"Not true!" Harry decried, "it's... um... that direction?" He hesitantly pointed towards the railway bridge with a hopeful wince. 

"Not even close love," Louis snorted, barely holding back the monster of fond smiles, "come on. I'll get you home safe."

It took a bit of navigation to get out of the car park but once they were out on the road Louis relaxed into the drive. He asked how Harry was feeling now the filming was over in Guadeloupe. Regardless of whether there would be a sixth season, they wouldn't be shooting there again - it was part of the charm of the programme, a different location almost every season. That's why Harry had so much luggage this time around.

"I'll miss Guadeloupe..." Harry replied slowly, "to an extent at least. It's a very beautiful place and the food is great..."

"But?" Louis smiled, sensing the antithesis on the horizon.

"But... it's really too hot for me to cope with for long and the pace of life is too slow," he rolled his lips and stared out of the window towards the DLR track running parallel, his voice dropping, "and it's not _home_."

"You'd call this cramped polluted city _home_ over a tropical island in paradise?" Louis couldn't help but chuckle as he shook his head, "you're ridiculous." In his peripheral he caught Harry turning back towards him but it took a long moment for his friend to reply.

"Yeah," he said softly, " _something_ like that." 

Louis didn't reply, the lump in his throat was too uncomfortable. 

~*~

EARLY JULY - ZAYN AND PERRIE'S WEDDING

"Whoa!"

"Oops sorry," Louis apologised around a mouthful of toothpaste as he narrowly missed colliding with Barbara – who was hurrying out of the ensuite with a hairdryer in one hand, a brush in the other and her dress flapping open at the back. If Louis was any less of a gentleman (and didn't have issues) he might have turned and ogled in appreciation. There _was_ a reason she was a model, after all.

"Jesus Christ!" He choked, spraying toothpaste down his chin, as the pungent fug of hairspray and perfume hit him. Eyes watering, he made a hasty u-turn out of _his_ bedroom and hurried up the stairs to the second guest bathroom. Unfortunately, like the rest of the house, it was already occupied but much to his relief he saw it was only Harry. His lanky friend was ducking down in front of the mirror trying to tie his tie.

"Hey," Harry greeted with a smile as Louis entered. They had long ago lost most of their boundaries with each other – probably around the time Harry first took a piss while Louis was in the bath.

Scrubbing his teeth a couple more times, Louis spat the froth out into the sink and rinsed his mouth out.

"Hi," he replied softly, straightening up. He grabbed a hand-towel to dry his face. "Did you sleep okay? I know I have a tendency to sleeptalk when I'm stressed?" Everyone had kipped over at his house the previous night since they were all driving to the venue together this morning. With only having three bedrooms, though, they'd had to share beds as well as rooms, which had caused some unrest. Liam and Sophia had taken Harry's bed, Niall and Barbara had commandeered the other spare room, Zayn took the study for himself while Niall, Stan and Ant each had a sofa in the living room. Harry had instantly offered to be the one to share Louis's Kingsize, which Louis had reluctantly accepted. He knew from experience that Niall kicked around and Stan farted and he didn't know Ant well enough to not feel awkward if any accidental spooning occurred. Harry, he knew, was a clingy sod, so inadvertent cuddling was well anticipated by both sides. Also, for as much as Harry laid the crush on thick, Louis knew he wouldn't try anything on – at least not deliberately.

"I slept fine," Harry replied with a throaty chuckle, "I'm more concerned I might have drooled in your ear."

Louis huffed out a laugh and leant back against the tiled wall, appraising his best friend's appearence. He looked good today; fresh and happy and handsome in his expensive suit. Gieves and Hawkes tailoring had always looked good on Harry. "Trust me," he said, "if you did drool, it was all soaked up by that mop on your head. Crikey, it was like I was being smothered by Cousin Nit."

Harry stuck his tongue out, "It was just trying to keep your head warm, that's all!"

"And just what was your leg trying to keep warm?" Louis threw back, feeling a strange bubbly warmth in the pit of his stomach as he remembered waking up to Harry's leg hooked over his own... very high up his thigh... To his delight, Harry flushed bright red at the reminder.

"Uh..."

"People! People! Hurry up!" Liam's agitated voice floated up from below, "we should have left fifteen minutes ago! You know traffic will be heavy going through Shepard's Bush!"

Louis rolled his eyes. It was only 10.30am and little over an hour's drive to the Luton Hoo Hotel in Bedfordshire. The wedding didn't begin until two o'clock so they had plenty of time to spare – there was no need for panic at all. "Not sure I'm looking forward to being stuck in a minibus with him for 130 miles," he muttered, making Harry chuckle again.

Most of them had been up for at least two hours already and tempers were already a bit frayed. With only three showers in the house, washing and shaving had been a chaotic dance followed by a fight for mirror space so that all make-up and hair could be perfected. And that was just the guys! The ladies, although just as chaotic, seemed to have a better, more practiced, rhythm going but their stuff seemed to be everywhere.

"Who moved my shoes?! I left them right next to the door!" Sophia's shout reverberated from the ground floor – oh boy, Louis' neighbours were going to _love_ him today.

"Yeah, I _know_ , I nearly broke my neck tripping over them," Zayn yelled back. "It's the nicotine that's meant to kill me not the process of going outside for a smoke!"

"They better not have been scuffed!" Sophia shouted at the same time Louis hollered, "Zayn Malik, you better not have had a fag in that suit! Perrie will kill you if you turn up stinking of smoke!"

"Will you all stop shouting!" Stan pleaded, "some of us still have a mother-fucking hangover to deal with!" His plea was followed by a quieter but equally forceful,

"Don't you _dare_ vomit in my hat."

Louis groaned and banged his head back against the wall, "I take that back, I'm not looking forward to being stuck with _any_ of them."

"Ah, they'll chill out once we're on the road," Harry replied distractedly as he continued to fiddle with his tie. "Put on some tunes and stop by Maccy Ds and everything will be hunky-dory again."

Louis looked over and watched in amusement as his friend struggled for a few more moments. When the knot once again did not work, Harry yanked the tie apart with a whine of frustration.

"Want some help?" Louis asked fondly, the corners of his lips twitching.

Harry pouted and offered up the tie's loose ends, which made an adorable picture as he looked like a grumpy five year old. "I should be able to do this myself by now."

"You should," Louis agreed, "how you managed twelve years at St James _and_ countless red carpet events without at least learning the eight classics by rote, I don't know."

Harry continued to pout even as Louis attempted to smooth away the kinks made from the previous attempts. "Okay," Louis tugged gently on the ends, "what knot would you like? Simple? Kelvin? Windsor...? _Trinity_?"

Harry considered it for a moment, "While a Trinity would certainly rustle a few feathers and give me endless amount of entertainment," he replied slowly, "I think a Windsor would be safer. I need to mend some bridges with the old school after publicly calling horse-racing dull."

Louis rolled his lips in amusement and pulled the wider side of the dusty-gold tie longer, "Yes, the Croften Lodge lot weren't particular amused by that comment. Not that many of them will be at the wedding, like. We all know Zayn's not too keen on keeping pally-pally with the upper-crust. There will be a few of his bosses in attendance though – and I'm sure one or two of them are Etonian. Other than that it'll mostly be Zayn's fellow models and, of course, some of the elite from the RLA – the ones who have a sense of humour anyway." He tugged on the ends again and added, as an after-thought, "Oh and there might be a designer or two so, unless you want a scathing critical review of your outfit, I'd keep it as safe as possible." With his tongue out in concentration, he began to wrap the ends over each other with precise flicks. Harry squinted downwards, trying to watch and learn. "You know," he said after a moment, too deliberately casual to sound genuinely off-hand – how he had made it as an actor Louis didn't know, "tie-tying is quite an _intimate_ affair..."

"Christ," Louis pushed the finished knot tight up to the collar, pretending to strangle Harry, "do you flirt with _everyone_?"

"Can't help it," Harry shrugged. "Anyway, what I said was true. If we were in a rom com this would be the moment where we would finally realise our feelings for each other and get it on against the sink."

"If we were in a rom com, Casanova," Louis shot back, calmly, letting Harry move away, "one of us would be a girl. Mainstream doesn't do homo yet and _I_ do not wear dresses."

"Hmm, I think I would look good in a dress," Harry peered at himself thoughtfully in the mirror, angling out his hips and legs in mock fashion.

With a strangled laugh at the mental image, Louis agreed, "I guess you do have the legs for it." He tugged Harry back around and gently loosened the knot from strangulation point, setting it square. Harry huffed out a breath, peering down at himself. "You made that look so easy."

"That's because it is darling," Louis replied, patting Harry's chest. "Now come on, let's get going before Liam has an aneurysm."

~*~

The _Luton Hoo Hotel, Golf and Spa_ was like the setting of a posh BBC crime drama. For it was the kind of place rich old men were murdered in their plush hotel rooms - their skulls caved in by a golf club, wielded by the fancy man of the victim's young wife. It was also possible that Louis watched too much TV. He couldn't say he hadn't been in places like this before, because he _had_... and in locations all over the world. That's what happened when you were third in command of a billion pound company and you sometimes had to physically take your products over to the buyer." However, it was only went you took a step back that you realised that the fanciful dramas weren't quite so far off reality as one hoped.

For some members of Perrie's family, and some of Zayn's too, this was the kind of opulence they'd only ever seen on the TV. Ever since learning about the venue, Louis had been wondering why the two had chosen such a high-brow place – considering neither Zayn or Perrie liked to flaunt their wealth, particularly in front of their families. Coming from essentially poor backgrounds and both being down to earth, decent people, Zayn and Perrie had always preferred to show modesty when it came to how much they had in the bank these days. The question was now answered as he saw the sheer awe and delight on their families' faces. It wasn't about feeling pressure to cater to their high-flying bosses and colleagues, no, this was all about giving their loved-ones a fairytale day of celebration. For people who work and work and get a mediocre return for it, this was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to be spoiled and catered to in a way that wouldn't be classed as 'pity'. For them, it would be a day where waiters, who earned probably several grand more a year than them, would treat everyone like they were royalty. For the waiters would not know any different. They wouldn't know that Trisha Malik was a minimum-wage school cook who couldn't afford to live in anything but rented accommodation in one of the poorer areas of Bradford. They wouldn't know that the only reason her children had afforded to attend posh private schools was because her husband's rich grandparents in India had financed it. No, today she would be Trisha Malik, mother of the groom, whose son could afford the prestigious Platinum wedding package at one of the elitist of venues in the UK. She would thus be treated as a lady of such status. As would Deborah Edwards – an equally low earning, yet hard working, mother from South Shields.

It was then that Louis wished he'd been a fly on the wall when Perrie had set the budget with her mum. Deborah's eyes would surely have popped out of their sockets - in the wonderful kind of way. In an instant he completely forgave her for any pushiness during the preparations - the poor woman must have been stressed to the max trying to make sure the money was put to good use. For a moment Louis' eyes bubbled up with emotion as he took in how happy and proud she looked greeting everyone as they arrived. The sun was shining, the grounds were beautiful, the manor stood majestic and everyone looked excited and full of wonder. It really was like a fairytale.

"Nervous?" Harry murmured, bumping his shoulder gently.

Louis looked up and nodded, his stomach knotting up again as he was reminded of his role ahead, "I probably wouldn't be half this bad if I hadn't forgotten the rings."

"But you remembered them before we made it out of Shepherds Bush, so it was only a five minute journey backwards," Harry soothed. "No hassle at all."

"Yeah, I suppose," Louis grimaced, remembering that nauseating moment of realisation vividly. "Thanks for covering for me by the way. Zayn would never have let me live it down if he had known the real reason we turned back."

"I don't know what you mean," Harry sniffed airily, "I just forgot my camera and you can't go to one of your best friend's weddings without your camera." His not-so-subtle wink afterwards made Louis chuckle appreciatively.

"You're a goofball and half," he joked, "but I love you for it."

"Enough to marry me yet?" Harry waggled his eyebrows and adopted a playful leer, "we've always made a great team and I think I've just proven that I've always got your back. I'm also sure with a bit of time you'll be able to overlook the fact I'm a man. Although, I wouldn't be objectionable to wearing fake boobs if that would get you going."

Louis felt himself flush and he stomach fluttered uncomfortably as he tried not to think back on that night in Budapest and what it might could mean in terms of his sexuality. He felt inordinately lucky that Liam had yet to say anything on the subject. Although, there was a good chance their friend didn't remember well enough to mention it to him. By the end of the night, Liam had been in a pretty bad state and the lad might be under the illusion he'd mistook or dreamt the situation - hence why he was keeping quiet. Louis certainly wasn't going to poke a stick and provoke a conversation. At least, not yet.

"I'm not the marrying sort mate," was his eventual, lame reply.

"Not true in the slightest," Harry breezed, "but I'll convince you in the end, you wait and see."

Louis just chuckled and shook his head. He was tempted to tease that it hadn't worked for the last six years so it was very unlikely to ever do so but felt that might be too past the line to joke about.

However, Harry was right about one thing, he had always had Louis' back and it was something Louis cherished dearly. Somehow, Harry just had a knack at keeping him on the right track... and, with that reminder, he suddenly he didn't feel so nervous about what was to come. Harry wouldn't let him fuck it up too bad – it was all going to be fine. He had the rings now, safe in his pocket, and his duties in the ceremony were easy to remember. The only thing he might fuck up today was his speech but he'd had three people listen to it and none of them had a bad word to say. " _Thank you,_ " he breathed out, cutting Harry off mid ramble about destiny.

Surprised, Harry stared at him for a long moment, obviously trying to work out what he meant by that. When it dawned, he bit his lip and shuffled shyly, a flush high on his cheeks, "Anytime."

~*~

At half one, Louis rounded up the Groomsmen, ushers and pageboys and started to direct them to their places. He was trying not to sound frantic with nerves, although he probably failed. "Does everyone know what they are doing?" He checked. "Have you all got your boutonnieres on? Ties straight? Flies closed?" Everyones' hands went to each item in turn although there was a more concerned note to the latter. Only Niall had to adjust. "Okay," Louis clapped his hands, "Harry, Liam, Niall and Ant, off you go and start seating the guests. Remember, the first few front rows are reserved for Zayn and Perries' immediate family. After that it's pretty much first come first served. Boys," he indicated the pageboys, "I want you to go wait at the doors for the arrival of the bride and bridesmaids. Remember, as we practiced you are to walk down the aisle first and sit on the bench to the right. Got it?" They nodded and Louis high-fived them before ushering them off in the direction of the doors. 

That left him with Zayn.

"Alright mate?" He asked softly, clapping his friend on the shoulder and hoping to pull off a calm and reassuring presence. "Ready for this?"

Zayn was pale and fidgety but he nodded resolutely, straightening his back. "Bit nervous about standing up in front of everyone, if I'm honest. I don't want to do something stupid like faint or forget my vows."

Louis reached out to realign Zayn's tie and smoothe down the lapels of the jacket before gripping his friend's upper arms.

"You'll be fine," he assured. "That's what I'm here for; to catch you if you fall or to whisper the lines in to your ear should you forget. I won't let you embarrass yourself. Promise."

Zayn smiled weakly, "What if Perrie doesn't turn up, though? You going to don a dress and take her place so that nobody knows I've been jilted?"

Louis chuckled and shook his head, patting Zayn's arms fondly, "Well, after our recent conversation, I think me donning a dress would probably fulfil the last of Harry's ultimate fantasies. Either that, or it will put him off me for life. Which... maybe not a terrible thing. It'll never happen though, Perrie would never jilt you at the alter. She loves you too much to do that. It's not like there's a better option out there." He ducked a little to catch Zayn's eyes, "I mean, she _is_ marrying one of the most handsome and kindest and worldliest of men on this planet. I dare say she'll be arriving early – too eager to wait a moment longer. So, with that in mind, let's get you in there ready for her. Cool?"

For a moment it genuinely looked like Zayn was going to cry. But then he swallowed quickly and yanked Louis forwards into a fierce hug. "If Perrie doesn't turn up then I'm definitely marrying you. Harry's jealousy be damned. I could take him with my eyes shut." Louis chuckled into his shoulder, liking the sentiment but not quite believing it was true. Harry might seem a softie most of the time but he was quite posessive. Zayn might have a harder fight on his hands than he gave Harry credit for. People always said, too, that it was the quiet ones that were the most dangerous. Then again, Zayn was pretty quiet too so... it would be an interesting fight for sure. He patted Zayn's back a few times before gently pulling back as Zayn showed little signs of doing so himself. They did have a wedding to get to. To his surprise, Zayn's expression was uncharacteristically tender and it took Louis a moment to realise it was all for him. To say it was touching was an understatement and there may or may not have been a prickling sensation in the corner of his eye. "Thanks mate," Zayn's voice was rough, "thanks for everything. I really couldn't have made a better choice for my bestman.""

"You're more than welcome," said Louis, he own voice a little worn, "and... can I say _congratulations_? I think you've made an excellent choice in Perrie – you suit each other really well and I think you'll have an amazing future together. I'm really happy for you both."

~*~

The ceremony was beautiful. There was no other way to describe it. Everything was so intimate and personal - right down to the bows on the chairs initialled with a cursive Z&P. The pageboys were adorable, walking straight and proud and eliciting awws from all the guests. The bridesmaids – Zayn's and Perrie's sisters and three of Perrie's bestfriends - all looked gorgeous in their long purple dresses. And then there was Perrie, who walked arm in arm with her stepfather, absolutely stunning in a long lacy white gown - a far cry from her white lab coat and dorky eye loupes. Louis misted up with pride and endearment. She was so beautiful. He sneaked a peek at Zayn and was instantly floored by the look of utter enchantment on his face. Louis had never doubted how much Zayn cared about Perrie but to see it so raw and open from a couple that was pretty private... it was such an emotional privilege. The old proverb was definitely true; nothing makes you happier than to see the ones you love content. He felt something press into his hand along with a whisper of, "Always got your back". At first he was confused as to why Harry had given him a tissue but then something slid down his cheek and he offered his friend a damp smile of thanks. The tissue quickly came in handy again during the vows when Zayn said, 'I've seen the best of you and the worst of you and I want both forever." God, how amazing must it be to be on the receiving end of an aphorism like that. Louis found himself suddenly yearning for someone to care enough to say it to _him_ and mean it.  

Then it was time for the rings. Swallowing thickly, Louis pulled the box out of his pocket, stepped forward and opened the lid, holding it out with a flourish. A fleeting feeling of nausea made him shiver as he imagined getting to this moment and only just finding out he had left the rings behind. The thought had his stomach clenching. Thank-god for Harry and for his own paranoia.

Zayn took the first ring and poised it over Perrie's finger and Louis bit his lip in excitement, _almost official, almost official_... "I give you this ring as a reminder that I will love, honour, and cherish you in all times, in all places and in all ways, forever."

With shyness in her voice, a complete paradox to her usual vibrant, confident self, Perrie repeated the same words and slipped the other ring down Zayn's finger. They turned to the registrar.

"Now you have both made the declarations as prescribed by law," the woman intoned "and have made a solemn and binding marriage contract with each other in the presence of your witnesses here assembled, so from this moment on I am delighted to record that you have now become husband and wife. You may kiss."

Everyone cheered, clapped and wolf-whistled as Zayn and Perrie shared a soft, intimate kiss, sealing the deal. After that it was just a small matter of signing the register, Louis and Jade bearing witness, before Louis escorted the Maid of Honour back down the aisle, leading the wedding party outside for the official photographs.

"You look beautiful," Louis told Perrie as soon as they were outside in the brilliant English sunshine.

Perrie giggled, shielding her eyes from the glare, "You're not getting sappy on me now Tomlinson, are you? He who tie-dyed my lab coat just because I accidentally broke his favourite crystal?"

"Trust me; things will go back to normal after the honeymoon, babe, but, for now, you look incredible. Congratulations."

She hugged him and whispered, "Thanks love."

~*~

The cake was a five tiered, intricately decorated, floral tower of white icing and it would be cut right after the speeches. Louis's knees bounced restlessly as he chewed his thumbnail. There was a good chance he was about to be sick from the nerves, made worse by the lingering smell of food. Considering he had often chaired meetings with some of the most influential and professional business men/women in the world, speaking at length to sell them his products, being nervous delivering a five minute speech to friends and family was utterly ridiculous. Yet here he was, queasy and sweating, eyeing the emergency exit in case he needed a quick getaway. Christ, he should have thought to have brought along a physical copy of the speech for a reference instead of just attempting to remember it from rote. With a copy he would at least have a something to reference him if he lost his way. _Shit_ , he was such a bloody idiot!

At that moment, Perrie's stepfather wound up his own speech and Louis laughed along with everyone else - even though he hadn't heard a word that was said. _Shit, shit, what was the first line of his speech again?_ Panic gripped him _. Good evening ladies and gentlemen... then what? Then what? THEN WHAT?_ ! He nearly jumped out his skin as his pocket vibrated. Very stealthily he slid his phone out and peeked at not one but _three_ messages.

 _Stop worrying. You're going to be amazing_!

_I slid a copy of ur speech in 2 ur inside pocket if u need it, which u won't._

_Always got ur back x_

Taken aback, Louis felt the inside pockets of his jacket and pulled out a sheet of paper. It was indeed his speech. Louis could have cried in relief. He looked over at Harry, who was playing some sort of stacking game with Niall using the place cards. He caught Louis's eye and smiled softly, nodding. Louis smiled back, an affectionate lump growing in his throat. He blew him a kiss after mouthing _thank you_ to which Harry made a ridiculous show of catching it and cradling it to his chest, much to Niall's amusement.

"... and following tradition, the best man has prepared a few words as well. So please give him a warm welcome."

Heart in his throat, Louis got shakily to his feet amid a loud round of applause and some embarrassing wolf-whistling from Niall and Liam's direction.

He fingered the paper uncertainly but then decided to go for it without looking. In for a penny in for a pound and all that. "Um... good evening everyone. For the few of you who don't read the gossip columns and don't recognise me; my name is Louis Tomlinson. I was greatly honoured, today, to have been bestowed the role of Zayn's bestman. Before any members of the Daily Mail combust – as I'm sure at least one of you have managed to slip in past security - I would like to clarify that I mean bestman as in a ceremonial position and not in any way prurient." There was a round of laughter at this, especially from the business and entertainment tables and Louis felt some of his nerves ease.

"I'd like to start by thanking everyone here today for joining Zayn, Perrie and their parents on this wonderful occasion. I think I echo everyone's sentiments when I say today has been very special indeed and won't easily be forgotten. The sense of family, friendship and love has been overwhelming at times and I know for a fact that I wasn't the only one blubbering during the ceremony." The laughter this time was warm and self-deprecating as many of the guests owned up to having gotten emotional, "As expected, Perrie here," he gestured towards her, "looks absolutely beautiful and Zayn doesn't scrub up too bad either." This garnered another laugh from all around the room. It was no secret that Zayn had just been voted in at number 3 of the 'most beautiful men of the 21st century'. "Oh behalf of them both, I would first like to make a special mention of the bridesmaids who have worked really hard to help things run smoothly. They were charming and attentive and I know they gave Perrie all the support she needed." There was a polite round of applause and the six bridesmaids all blushed and grinned at their plates. "Zayn and Perrie would also like to thank their parents, especially Deborah who worked tirelessly towards making this the perfect wedding it has been. Without her, Zayn and I would certainly have made the colossal mistake of using lilies instead of white roses in the flower arrangements and that would have spoiled everything." He sent Deborah a warm smile, to show he meant no harm and that he still thought she was amazing. She ducked her head in return, smiling bashfully, in acknowledgement that she had been a little over-zealous at times but knew no one held it against her. Her imperiousness had paid off. "Lastly," Louis continued, "on behalf of the bride and groom, I would like to thank all the guests for attending today's celebrations and for supporting Zayn and Perrie as they begin their married life together. There are many people who have travelled a great distance to be here today and your presence is especially appreciated. An extra special thank you is extended to those of you who are not familiar with western weddings but have embraced the celebrations none-the-less – your support is immeasurably important. It's also wonderful to see two cultures melding together and accepting Zayn and Perrie's choice to celebrate _both_ of their cultures when it comes to their marriage. Although," Louis grinned cheekily around the tables, "for some of you, I'm guessing it's just an excuse to be invited to two parties." The loudest guffaws came from Zayn's extended family this time, to which the sentiment rang true. "Now," Louis cleared his throat nervously, "it is tradition for a bestman to give a short speech about the groom as a way of introducing him to his wife's family and friends. This includes telling a few embarrassing stories for everyone else's amusement. Having known Zayn for over 20 years, I, indeed, have a large library of such stories. However, out of respect for him on his big day, I have decided not to tell them and save his pride." The was a low boo from around the hall, to which Louis raised his voice slightly, "I'm _not_ going to tell you about the time in primary school when he locked himself in a toilet and cried for two hours straight because someone said his comic book was for babies. Nor will I divulge about the time in our early twenties when he fell asleep on a train and woke up 300 miles later in Scotland with no money to get home. And I certainly _won't_ tell you the story about the chicken curry, because that's just way too disgusting for polite company. I won't even tell you the embarrassing story of how he and Perrie _really_ met which involved a coffee soaked shirt, a broken toilet door and a whole tray of smashed vials which he still hasn't paid for." Louis smirked at his captive audience, "Oh I bet you were all under the illusion it was a mishap-less romantic meeting at a desk, huh? Not quite the case. For further details please see me after dinner." Zayn groaned and buried his face in his hands. The mere thought of everyone knowing the truth was, in no doubt, mortifying for him. "As I'm sure most of you have deduced already, I am not only best friends with the groom but I'm also a good friend of Perrie's too. She is my colleague and lab partner - the person I spend 7 hours a day, five days a week, with. Over the years I have learned that she's one of the most vibrant, brilliant and loyal of friend's one could ever hope to have and I'm glad she chose my best friend to fall in love with." The was an audible aww, which made Louis bite his lip. "Of course, sometimes there's a bit of an overshare and I often get the brunt of her ire when Zayn doesn't lift the toilet seat or leaves his clothes all over the place – you know, the usual stuff we men are guilty for. At the same time, though, I also get to hear how wonderful Zayn is - how he never forgets an anniversary and how he always treats her with love and respect. In fact, from what I've heard, we, Gentlemen, have a lot to live up to." There was another collective aww and Louis smiled down at the table, pleased it seemed to be going well so far. "As I mentioned earlier," he continued, "it was a real honour to have been asked to act as Zayn's best man today. It did come at a price though, I had to turn down Perrie's offer of the role of her maid of honour. But Zayn and I agreed; I just don't have the legs to pull off a purple chiffon dress. Although Niall has threatened to Photoshop me into one on the Radio 1's website if I don't sneak him three pieces of cake."

"It's going up regardless of how much cake I get," Niall called out and the laughter increased two-fold around the room. Louis shot him a comical look of betrayal which had people laughing even more.

"All joking aside," he said, once the laughter had naturally petered out, "We men don't always say what we truly feel," he turned to Zayn, looking at him properly for the first time in the speech, "but my friendship with you, Zayn, runs deeper than any curry eating challenge, COD all-nighter or random 300 mile rescue. The fact is; ever since we were at school together, I've always looked up to you as a role model. You're one of the funniest, coolest and nicest guys I know, and your friendship has and _will_ always mean a lot to me." He saw Zayn's expression melt to the point he looked like he was welling up again. Louis felt another lump grow in his throat but he charged on regardless, "Every friend adds something different to our lives," he croaked. "For me, you are one of the few who has always been there when I needed help and didn't know where to turn. You are one of the few who stood by me when others fell by the wayside because they couldn't see the truth without me spelling it out. You are one of the few who has shared my adventures and tolerated my nerdy interests without running for the hills. What's more impressive is that this isn't restricted to just me; you do this for all your friends and family. That's why I can say, without any shadow of a doubt, that you are going to be an amazing husband for Perrie. She's picked herself probably the best partner in the world and vice versa." He dragged his eyes away from Zayn's glistening eyes lest he start crying himself. "So," he addressed the room at large, "I would now like to conclude by saying... Zayn and Perrie, you compliment each other so well it's a marvel to behold and I know you're going to make a wonderful life together. You're among people today who care about you very much and wish you both all the happiness in the world. I don't know what your future holds exactly and I know that twenty years from now many things will have happened that we can't predict today. But whatever happens, and wherever you go, I know you'll have each other's love, and you'll also have ours. We'll always be ready to help out when you need it and to share in your joys with you when they come. So, with that in mind, and on behalf of everyone here, I want to make you this wish: may your love be modern enough to survive the times and old-fashioned enough to last forever. Here is a toast to a long life filled with adventure, love, and cherished moments. Everyone, please raise your glasses," his sight blurred a little as, not only did everyone raise their glasses but they stood up as well, "to Zayn and Perrie."

"To Zayn and Perrie," they echoed, clinking and sipping.

"What a speech, let's have a round of applause for Louis Tomlinson, the bestman," said Alex Edwards, sounding choked. Louis flushed and sunk down in his chair as the room burst into cheers and wolf whistles – the loudest coming from Harry... the lovable plonker. Louis looked around and saw, to his surprise, that there were quite a few people dabbing their eyes. _Holy crap, did I do that_? _Did I make them emotional?_ He caught Harry's eye and saw him nod as though to say, 'You did. Knew you could do it, babe. So proud.'

~*~

Like at all weddings, once a few drinks had been imbibed and the night had drawn late, the oldies filled the dance floor – finally brave enough to strut their stuff with the young-uns. As Saturday Night at Movies got the wrinkles shoogling (normally Louis' cue to hit the dance floor too), Louis found himself being the rock to Zayn's limpet instead.

"I love you so much," Zayn cooed into his ear – clearly fresh from his second spliff of the night, by the smell of things. "I love Perrie too, in a different way obviously, but you... you are so amazing. That speech... man... so deep... I couldn't have done this without you... just couldn't of... so glad I picked you."

Louis chuckled, "I'm glad I didn't let you down."

"Never could," Zayn mumbled, cuddling in closer. Louis petted his back awkwardly.

"Not even married for a day and you're already stealing my hubby," Perrie teased, plopping down beside them.

"Trust me love, he's _all_ yours," Louis laughed, "way too clingy for my tastes." He said the last bit with as much fondness he could lest his drunken friend take offence. Then he turned back to Perrie, "You about ready to hit the road?"

She nodded, "Yeah, it's almost ten o'clock. I think the we'll have to go soon, we don't want to miss our flight."

Zayn slowly disentangled himself, "I better start saying my goodbyes then."

"Yeah," Louis agreed, "you guys go do that while I check on the car and get your luggage booted up."

The moment they were distracted Louis sidled up to where Niall, Harry and Liam were drinking at the bar.

"Guys," he said, patting Niall and Liam on the back, "it's _time_."

Niall whooped and immediately loped away to fetch his bag. Harry, Louis and Liam headed outside.

Ten minutes later, they all stood back from the car and grinned at each other with pride. The taxi was literally covered from bonnet to boot in hundreds of painted messages, flowers, ribbons and balloons. Liam held out forty quid to the driver, "Thanks for this, Bob."

"Yer welcome," the man replied thickly, tipping his hat.

Their efforts were well worth Zayn's expression when he saw it. "You have _got_ to be kidding me," he groaned, covering his face. "I'm not getting in that."

"Couldn't let you go without a bang," Liam declared, heartily slapping him on the back.

" _Ball and chained forever_ , though?" Zayn asked, lowering his hands and raising an eyebrow as he read the back windscreen. "Niall, you are such a romantic."

"Hey, how did you know that was me?"

Zayn snorted and gestured, "It's only just legible mate, your handwriting sticks out a mile."

Louis turned to Perrie, who had changed into a dark blue dress and a white cardigan for the journey, "Right, your suitcases are in the boot along with your handbag. Here are your tickets, passports and hotel details," he handed her a blue wallet. "When you get to Thailand there will be a taxi waiting for you at the airport to take you to your hotel. I hope you guys have a great time."

She pulled him into a fast hug, "Thanks Lou, thanks for everything. Today's been better than I ever could have imagined."

"You're welcome love," he mumbled, before kissing her cheek and stepping back. "Now," he reached out to open the car door, "get going so you don't miss your flight and we'll see you both in two weeks."

A crowd had gathered to wave them off. Grinning, Zayn and Perrie got in and wound their windows down, waving and calling to people. 

Louis felt an arm slide around his shoulders and he settled instinctively into the warmth, "Hmm... Just think... that could be us someday."

Louis, without taking his eyes off the car, elbowed Harry in the side, "One of these days I'm going to shock you by agreeing and then I'm going to laugh as you backpaddle faster than David Cameron on his promises to Scotland."

Harry chuckled low and warm in his ear, "Not a chance. Once you're mine I'm never letting go."

As the car started to move away something flew towards them. Harry caught it before it collided with Louis's face. It took a long few seconds of stunned surprise before they realised what it was – and why everyone was cheering. Louis nearly went deaf as Harry let out an impossibly loud squeal of triumph. He had caught the fucking bouquet. "Told you! We're going to be next!"

"She did that deliberately!" Louis protested in disgruntlement as Harry started jumping up a down like an idiot, clutching the flowers.

"Hey guys," Niall called out, "there's still cake left and the DJ's promising the Macarena. Wanna show everyone how the 90's kids party?"

"Yeah sure," and laughing, they all started to walk back to the hall.

"You know," Harry started, sounding way too delighted with himself as he preened the slightly bent flowers back into shape, "we would-"

Louis stopped and turned around, clapping a hand over his friend's mouth, "If you promise not to finish that sentence and if..." he grimaced as he felt Harry's jaw start to move, "you _don't_ lick my hand, I'll might actually ask you for a dance."

They held still for a moment and then Louis slowly took his hand away. Harry grinned at him like he was the second coming and mimed zipping his lips. Louis just chuckled and pushed him towards the door, trying desperately not to wonder if Harry's tongue would feel like Aron's.

 

 

 


	8. Chapter 7

Usually, whenever Perrie went on holiday Louis asked one of the techs to fill in for her. He got on great with all of his team and they always seemed eager for the chance to work with him. In fact, sometimes there was a bit of a clamour to be chosen, which was a nice little ego boost. However, unfortunately this time the team had so much work on that he couldn't justify taking anyone away from their position. Therefore, he had to knuckle-down and cope by himself for two weeks. It was no mean task either. By Wednesday he was regretting his decision immensely, toying with the idea of actually putting an ad out and really appreciating just how skilled Perrie was at her job. To say he was rusty with the computer commands needed to run diagnostics would be an understatement. He took at least twice, if not _three_ times, as long to complete each task compared to Perrie and, to make it worse, he found it mind-numbingly boring. 

_Die, die, die_ , he swore furiously to himself, repeatedly hitting the delete key as the software deemed his actions as an 'invalid command' _yet again_.

"Keep frowning like that and in ten years you'll look like a scrotum."

Barking out an reflexive laugh, Louis blindly waved a hand for his Grandfather to come in. It wasn't often the man traipsed down here, usually Louis went to him, so this was a nice surprise. After hitting delete one more time, Louis swivelled around in the chair like a bond villain to greet his guest with a grin. "Ah, _Mr Austin_ , lowering yourself to enter the labourers' den in person. To what do I owe the pleasure?"

Robert raised an eyebrow, a smile twitching at the corner of his lips, "Lunch, my lad?"

Louis glanced at the clock, it was 12.03. Lunch time, indeed. He accepted the invitation with a sharp nod - like hell he would turn down a free meal even if the likelihood of a hidden agenda was so high it was pointless to have hope.

Much to his delight, lunch turned out to be a visit to The Delaunay in Covent Garden and Louis found himself caring even less about whatever agenda might be behind this impromptu get-together. When presented with such wholesome food he could forgive almost anything - even a request for a DPD with Nick Grimshaw (which was actually quite a terrifying thought and maybe not something he should spin out into the ethos... just in case). They ordered and continued their idle chit-chat about Britain potentially leaving the EU and what it might mean for businesses as a whole. All in all, it took a while for his Grandfather to get around to the agenda but, as it turned out, it was all good and nothing for Louis to worry about anyway. 

As they tucked hungrily into large bowls of chicken salad and cauliflower cheese, Robert apologised for not having spent as much time with Louis as he should have done. "It's been such a busy year so far," he sighed, tearing open his roll, "and I feel like I've been out of the country more than I've been in it."

"S' my fault as well," Louis shrugged, reaching over to pat his Grandfather's hand soothingly, "I've maybe been a bit too ambitious with how many projects I've taken on this year. I've barely had time to breathe let alone have a personal life."

His grandfather studied him for a long moment, his eyes sharp and shrewd, but then his expression softened, "So I've seen. You've taken on even more work than last year and that was a lot."

"Yeah," Louis chuckled, "I don't know how it happened. I swore I would be a lot stricter this year but... hey ho. Maybe I'm just a glutton for punishment?"

"Or maybe you're subconsciously worried about my looming retirement?"

Louis felt his food stick in his throat and he quickly took a sip of water to wash it down. "How do you mean?" He suddenly couldn't quite meet his grandfather's eyes - knowing his expression would give too much away. He had never told anyone but he was not exactly jumping for joy at the idea of losing his place in the lab when, eventually, he took over the company.

"Oh come on Lou, give me some credit," Robert entreated, "I _know_ you. Your passions lie in the lab and not in the office. I don't blame you for instinctively wanting to cram in as many projects you can before the transition."

Louis sighed deeply and looked up. "It's not that I don't want to take over the company," he tried to explain, "it's just..."

"You don't want to give up designing," Robert finished, with a knowing smile. "Hey, don't look so guilty. It's okay to feel that way and I want to put your mind at rest that when you do take over from me it doesn't have to be all or nothing." He took a sip of his own water before continuing with, "Okay, so you won't be able to spend as much time as you currently do in the lab but you won't have to completely leave it. This is one of the reasons I made you third in command - to prepare you for the transition by slowly reducing your time downstairs. In my position, you will have about half the time again as you currently have in the lab, which would add up to about three projects a year, I think. Three projects is okay, isn't it? It'll keep your hand firmly in practice and might even mean your quality will improve even more because you'll have more time to focus. In fact, if you were to find a balance between running the business and designing, I think you could earn RLA the ultimate market respect that I could never hope to achieve."

"Really? You think that is all possible?" Louis's stomach swooped at the thought he could still have his cake and eat it (although in smaller bites over a longer period of time).

" _Really_ ," Robert chuckled, his eyes soft. "You have a great head on your shoulders lad, especially when it comes to business. You could probably achieve anything you wanted to if you put your mind to it. However, you are also ruled by passion – so be careful that you don't let the bitterness of losing some lab time fester into something detrimental to the company. Plan ahead and find a balance. Remember, you _can_ delegate and should you ever need any advice then my door is always open."

"T-t-thanks," Louis stuttered, not sure how to put into words how his Grandfather had just removed an ever tightening noose from around his neck with a few little words of encouragement. He also wasn't sure if this was the right time and place to verbally remind his Grandfather that he loved him very much. It was a very public setting, after all and they had images to uphold in the company of open ears. So he offered him his last slice of garlic ciabatta instead (last Rolo style) - hoping that would convey everything on his mind. 

Judging by the slightly watery twinkle in Robert's eye Louis got the message across just fine.

~*~

 _A few days later - Friday evening_

 

When he got home on Friday, shirt sticking uncomfortably to his chest thanks to the stifling July heat – salutations London pollution – he was greeted by the sound of voices floating up from the back garden. Clearly they had company over - for dinner, no less, judging by the pungent aroma of a flaming hot barbeque. Intrigued, as Harry hadn't forewarned him, Louis dropped his briefcase at the foot of the stairs and walked through to the dining room. As he walked, he tugged his tie loose and unbuttoned the cuffs of his shirt - rolling them up to his elbow. Sure, he could go and change but he currently felt too lazy to climb the stairs, especially when there might be food to be had. Anyway, he probably had a clean t-shirt in the laundry room if he really needed something but, for now, a quick roll-up of his sleeves would do.

As he had anticipated, the patio doors had been flung open - inviting the overwhelming scent of hot coals and freshly cut grass to fill the lower floor. He breathed in deeply, momentarily flung back to the iconic summers of his childhood  filled with chargrilled chicken and endless days of football. Those were the days when there had been a back garden long enough to hold a mini set of goals for a little kick around. That had been one small positive about going home to his family in Doncaster. Sadly, his garden was now very small compared to back then - tiny even by the English average, sitting at only 8x5m. Still it was _his_ little piece of personal outdoor space and he was grateful for it – after all, he could have lived in a flat and not have had any private garden at all. 

When he had first moved in, he had quickly decided to split the garden in half, horizontally. The closest section had been paved and was just big enough to hold a small furniture set and a barbeque stand. The other half of the garden was a small strip of lawn with a few pretty bushes at the end against the high fence. It was a neat little garden but not something that made you go _wow_. Still, it offered a bit of quiet sun and it was more than enough for Louis's current needs.

As he approached the patio doors, he caught a glimpse of Charlie and Jack chasing each other around the lawn and instinctively grinned in delight. It had been a few weeks since he'd last seen them and they were always a great laugh to have around. Stepping out, only just remembering to be mindful of the raised edge of the threshold, he saw Niall, Babs, Amelia, Sophia and Liam were lounging around the patio table sipping wine. Harry was the only one at the barbeque, decked out in his favourite 'I rub my meat' apron and happily flipping food like there was nothing else he'd rather be doing. Louis raised an eyebrow at the scene, amused - particularly by Liam's presence as he had clearly had enough time after his lecture to go home, change and drive over here. Muggins, here, on the other hand, had spent the latter half of the afternoon trapped in a financial meeting with Willyhard. It should only have been a forty-five minute overview of the figures but somehow Willard had managed to stretch it out for two and a half hours. They only escaped at five because _Willard_ had to take a long distance call from New York, _the_ _bastard_. Yet Louis's highly anticipated 'bionic laser scanner', the prototype of which was due for delivery to the customer in two weeks, wasn't important enough to keep a non-vital meeting short and to the point. Sometimes Louis wondered if the twat even realised just how much work they had on or whether he just made things harder on purpose out of spite. 

"So _this_ is what you all get up to when I'm slaving away at work," he grumbled good naturedly. There was a cheer at his arrival and a clamour to come sit down.

"Hubby's home, Harry!" Niall called, swinging back in his chair. "Better change those sheets quickly so he doesn't know you've been cheating on him with Nick."

Louis frowned and shot a _look_ at Harry, "Nick was here?"

Harry grimaced and sent Niall two fingers before quickly putting Louis's mind at rest, voice slightly squeaky, "He just brought over some paperwork and stayed for a quick cuppa. Don't worry, I'm not bringing strangers into your house off a whim - it was purely business."

Louis chuckled as he wandered over to the grill to see what Harry was cooking up. "It's okay, I don't mind you having people over. Even if it _is_ Nick. Just give me the heads-up so I can make myself scarce. You know how painful it is when he and I try to make small talk."

"Okay... thanks." Harry sounded relieved in a way that made Louis a little concerned. "I promise to forewarn you as best as I can." He slid an arm around Louis's shoulder and shuffled in closer so their hips were knocking. "How was the meeting?"

"Eh, could have been better," Louis replied, looking down on the colourful skewers cooking on the grill with interest. His stomach rumbled hungrily, "but it could also have been a lot worse. That smells amazing. Is this a special occasion?"

"Not really a special occasion..." Harry replied lightly as he rotated a few of the skewers, "but I was offered the role in that period drama I wanted and I've accepted."

"You were?! You did?!" Louis gasped, knowing how much Harry had wanted the part - mainly because it would mean he would have an excuse to stay in the UK until at least Christmas. _Oh god, fuck yes!_ it hit him - this meant Harry would be staying for another five months _,_ here, in London, with him. "Oh my god, that's fantastic! Congratulations!" He yanked Harry into a sideways hug. The euphoria was so sudden and so intense it made him feel a little faint. Harry was staying. Harry was staying until at least Christmas! Five more months together! Five WHOLE months! Fuck, he needed to sit down.

"Thanks," Harry's cheeks were tinged pink as they settled back into their previous position. "I'm actually really looking forward to it – you can't be a proper British actor until you've played in a BBC period drama."

"Tell that to the cast of Towie," Louis joked, slightly breathless and wondering if his knees were going to give out. This week could not have ended on a better note. First his grandfather reassuring him that he wouldn't have to give up the lab completely when he took over the business and now Harry winning this role... it was about time things worked out in his favour. _Their_ favour, actually, because as much as he was excited about Harry staying, he was even more excited that Harry had finally gotten the job he'd always wanted; a lead role in a major one-off BBC drama. It would be an opportunity to show off his acting chops in front of millions of people from his own home country. To make it even better, this role was for a five part BBC period drama designed to air over Christmas, concluding on Christmas Day. This would mean an even bigger audience than normal as so many people would be off work (and probably digesting their Christmas Dinner in front of the TV) when it was on. Also, this was set to be one of the biggest BBC productions yet with an all-star cast in which Harry would be far from the most famous face. With the likes of Dame Maggie Smith, Judy Dench and Michael Gambon in the credits, you just knew it was going to be a quality piece of television – and award winning too. Harry's name would be up there shining amongst the most respected of British acting talent. Also, since it was a BBC drama set in England, it was going to be filmed mostly around London – Cliveden House in Taplow to be exact. This meant Harry would be able to commute there and back every day. No need to live out of an impersonal hotel room a hundred miles from his friends or, worse, be stuck in a tiny trailer that has a damp problem when it rains.

"Might have to start charging you rent though," he teased aloud, squeezing Harry's arm to show he was kidding. Just having Harry's company was more than enough a reward for keeping him housed.

"So you're not kicking me out?" Harry draped an arm back over Louis's shoulders and nuzzled his hair with his forehead. It was all done and said in a playful fashion but Louis could hear the real question underlying the moment. _Is it okay if I still stay here?_ _Or do we need to talk?_ In similar playful fashion, Louis responded by wrapping his arm around Harry's waist and pulling his hips closer. The mere thought of Harry moving out actually made him feel physically sick so he didn't want Harry to ever doubt for a second that he had a place here. His playfulness faltered, however, when he spoke - his tone a bit firmer than necessary, "No. I'm not kicking you out anytime soon. I love your company and I don't want you to leave." As Harry's eyebrow started to quirk up, he quickly added, in a lighter tone, "preferably _ever_ – but we'll cross that bridge when we come to it."

There was an short awkward pause thereafter, probably only felt by Louis - judging by the rather large hearteyes Harry was currently sporting. The silence continued on, though, until even Harry was realising it was unnatural. He straightened up and cleared his throat, responding with an incredibly lame, "Right... thanks. That's great." Then they were patting each other, bro-like, hip and shoulder, and pulling apart - both feigning a lot of interest in the barbeque. "I um..." Harry bit at his bottom lip as he turned some of the skewers again, "I know you were only joking about the rent but I think that's actually something we ought to sit down and discuss properly. I mean, so far I only really contribute towards the food bill and the occasional trip to the cinema. That's not exactly fair on you."

"Harry, money really isn't an issue here," Louis protested with a wince because he always felt uncomfortable talking about his wealth. "I can more than afford it."

"I _know_ ," Harry murmured back, "but it's more the principle of the thing. I mean, I could easily afford to buy myself a house all of my own if I wanted to. Money really, _really_ isn't an issue for me either. But I like living here with you and I want to contribute to the bills if I'm going to stay any longer. By December I'll have been here about six months. That's not being a guest, that's being a tenant."

"Okay, okay," Louis sighed, knowing Harry wouldn't let the subject go now that it had been voiced, "we'll talk about it tomorrow. Promise."

"I'll hold you to that."

"Uncle Louis!" Charlie tugged insistently on Louis's trousers, "come and play footy with us!"

"Charlie," Sophia called out, "mind your manners."

Charlie scrunched up his face petulantly but forced out a, " _Please_ , Uncle Lou?"

Chuckling, Louis nodded, unable to deny the little anything, "Sure kid, just give me a few minutes to grab a drink. Why don't you set up a goal with the cushions from the settee?"

"Okay!" and Charlie scampered off, Jack toddling happily behind.

"Dinner will only be about ten minutes," Harry advised. "Don't get too caught up."

"Okay, _dear_ ," Louis smirked, before quickly darting out of the way of Harry's spatula, giggling.

After gulping down a glass of water, Louis did indeed keep his promise and had a kick around with Liam and the kids until Harry announced the kebabs were done. While they took the boys in to wash the dirt and grass stains from their hands (knees, elbows and faces) (and Louis finally changed his shirt too), Sophia and Amelia brought out sidedishes of salad, crisps and dips from the kitchen as well as more wine and juice for everyone to tuck into. Then they all crammed around the patio table in the good-old mismatched chair style. The banter was light and hilarious, everyone swapping amusing stories from the last week or so of their lives. The food disappeared rapidly and Niall and Harry ended up squabbling over the last kebab, which Jack pinched triumphantly from under their noses. Once the laughter over his sneakiness had died down, they all took turns at grilling up burgers until everyone was too stuffed to move for the next few hours.

As the sky darkened and turned a brilliant marble of red and blue, Louis caught Harry observing them all with a sad sort of happiness. "Alright?" he whispered in concern, leaning closer and squeezing his knee soothingly.

Harry nodded, putting his hand on top of Louis's and squeezing back. "Yeah, I just realised how much I've missed this. With the previous seasons of Men of Glory I could regularly come home so I didn't feel the distance too badly. But in Guadeloupe... it was a beautiful place and I enjoyed working there but... it was so far away and it wasn't anything like home and... I don't think I want to leave like that again – at least not for such a long amount of time."

Louis swallowed hard, remembering all to well how hard to distance had been at his end. "Home missed you too," he murmured and Harry's smile was momentarily more blinding than the sun.

~*~

END OF JULY

Zayn and Perrie returned home looking absolutely knackered but also like they'd had the time of their lives. Louis had been out to Tesco for the weekly shop, while Harry had stayed at home to memorise lines. When Louis returned, arms ladened with bags, it was to the sound of cheerful conversation in the kitchen. Knowing Harry couldn't possibly make his voice split in two, as talented as he was as an actor, they clearly had visitors. He figured it to be Liam or Niall but got a pleasant surprise when he walked in to see the newlyweds. Perrie was so tanned Louis barely recognised her at first. The moment he did he squealed in delight, dumped the bags on the floor and scuttlling forward to wrap them both in a hug.

"Glad to have you back safe and sound," he grinned.

"Me too," Zayn grunted, as he returned to the stool. He stunk of fags - a tell-tale sign he'd been chain smoking. "Can't say that flight filled me with confidence though."

"That bad?" Louis chuckled, thanking Harry as he pressed a cup of tea into his hands.

"There was a storm over Europe," Perrie explained, "gave us some turbulence."

" _Some turbulence_ ," Zayn spluttered, "it was so bad the woman behind us was praying."

"Yikes," Louis cringed, not exactly the hardiest of flyers himself, "but apart from that you had a good time? Yeah?"

"Fantastic," Perrie sighed dreamily, "it was like being on a completely different world– a jaw-droppingly fascinating world _at that_. The architecture-"

"Was phenomenal," Zayn cut in, "like, there were all these temples and their roofs were so ornate – like pineapples and Christmas trees. Some of the roofs even glinted gold in the sun! And the palaces, oh my god, they put Buckingham to absolute shame-"

"The markets were out of this world too," Perrie gushed, "it was literally like a sea of colour and the food..."

"Honest to god, guys," Zayn croaked, "I have never seen fruit or veg like it. Melons twice the size of your head, carrots as long as your forearm, peppers as thick as two fists... real proper food – none of this tiny, tasteless imported European crap that we get here. Oh man. Then there was the seafood. I've never seen half the stuff they had on offer and a lot of it was dried, which was really weird. They had these huge boxes spilling over with fish and prawns and octopus - christ, they put our meagre supermarket ice displays to shame."

"Sounds absolutely amazing," Louis sighed wistfully. He _loved_ foreign markets and knew Bangkok had some of the best. "Do you want to stay for dinner and tell us all about it?"

Turning down the offer because they were too exhausted, Perrie and Zayn stayed long enough to zip through 328 snaps of their venture and gift Harry and Louis a souvenir goody bag each. In Harry's was a very loud shirt with a banana pattern so awful it had Harry squealing in delight (and Louis wincing in pain at the thought of being seen with him). There was also a hand-stitched leather bag and three gorgeous silk scarves. In Louis's bag there was a handful of silk ties, an ornate silver tea caddy and a pair of handmade shoes. The latter were so shiny he could see his reflection in the leather. Deeply touched, the pair of them couldn't stop saying thank-you, protesting it was far too generous. Perrie and Zayn just shrugged it off though.

"You helped give us the best wedding we could have dreamed of, it's the least we could do."

~*~

MID-AUGUST

Louis yawned as his stepped from the utility room into the kitchen, arms hugging the laundry basket. It was a rainy bank holiday Monday and he'd decided to get the boring tasks over with first in hope that the weather might cheer up for something more exciting in the afternoon. He smiled fondly as he saw Harry sitting at the breakfast table, idly doodling as he yapped away on his phone. Today he was lazing around in a pair of skinnies, a barely buttoned shirt and one of his new scarves tied like a headband in his hair. Sensing his presence, Harry looked up and pulled a silly face.

"Who is it?" Louis mouthed back, dumping the freshly laundered clothes on the table for folding before dropping the basket to the floor.

"Nick," Harry mouthed back, "schedule run through," he then mimicked snoozing before quickly saying aloud "... right okay. What time do I need to walk the carpet?"

Louis raised an eyebrow; Harry had an event coming up? He never mentioned it... Then he wanted to slap himself for his stupidity, _of course_ Harry had a bloody event! Next week was the premiere of the movie he'd filmed last year. It had been on the calendar for months.

Louis loved going to premieres with Harry because it was always so much fun to watch Harry's reaction at seeing himself onscreen. He got so embarrassed and nitpicked every little thing about his performance. Louis never agreed with him though because Harry's films were always guaranteed to be good because Harry was a phenomenal actor. Also, by going along, Louis usually got introduced to rest of the cast and it was always amusing to trade stories with them – stories Harry conveniently forgot to share with either party because of his embarrassment. 

"Six o'clock-ish, alright," Harry was saying. "Dress code? Please don't tell me it's uber black tie... ...ugh, I _hate_ you."

Louis sniggered, knowing Harry hated his tux with a vengeance. Harry stuck his tongue out at him before straightening up in the chair with a rapid, "No I _am_ listening. Don't get your Nick-ers in a twist." He leered triumphantly in Louis's direction, pleased at having the foresight to carry on his running joke. Louis just shook his head, grinning, and started to fold up the underwear, unashamedly listening in to the rest of the call. "Oooh, so I have a plus one?" Harry chirped after a few long seconds.

Louis perked up in interest. Plus one? Normally, if Harry had a spare ticket he would invite one of them along – them being himself, Niall, Cole, Zayn, Liam or one of his close family. The last couple of events had been in New York so Louis, and most of the others, hadn't been able to go – except Zayn who had had an event over there at the same time.

"Plus two?" Harry's eyebrows rose again and he teased, "I take it one of those is reserved for yours truly?" Yeah that was the downside of going with Harry to his events, Nick was normally always there – desperate to schmooze with the rich and famous. Yuck. " _No_? Well that's a first." Louis felt his interest peak again. 

So Nick wouldn't be going by the sound of things... even better! Two free tickets out for claim, it shouldn't be too hard to wangle one for himself. After all, he _was_ one of Harry's favourite people. 

He tuned back in to the conversation and then rolled his eyes. "Oh I see," Harry was crooning, "and who's the lucky man then? Uh, huh, uh huh. Well avoid the prawns." The prawns? Louis didn't want to know. "What about the tickets? When do I...? Okay, well if you could drop them off at Lou's... No he won't set the dogs on you; he doesn't even have a dog..." For a moment Louis was tempted to go and get one there and then. "Well just put them through the flaming letterbox then!" Harry sounded exasperated. "And make sure you put my name and address on the front in case you put it through the wrong door again... no it was _twice_. I had to knock on virtually every flat in the building to locate it, which didn't endear me to my neighbours at all. Now, what about the BBC contract...?"

Harry finished up just as Louis was folding the last t-shirt – one he couldn't quite tell if it was Harry's or his own. Well, technically he had had this dilemma four washes ago and had made the executive decision that it was his, which it soon transpired it wasn't once he'd tried it on but found it surprisingly comfortable to sleep in – soft and kind of floaty. It had been his ever since. Not that Harry had room to complain - he borrowed Louis's clothes all the time. Tit for tat and all that.

"So," he said casually, once Harry had placed his phone down on the table and was stretching out his limbs, "I heard you have a few tickets free for this premiere. Are you thinking about taking your parents this time?" He totally had this.

Harry shook his head, his lips twitching, obviously knowing what Louis was angling for. _Damn it_! Then again it probably didn't matter ; sometimes being obvious worked even better than subtlety. "Nah, I can't, they're going to Italy this weekend." Of course they were, how had Louis forgotten that? He had ribbed Harry rotten for begging his mum to bring him back some of that Domori chocolate he so loved. "But to save you fishing anymore," Harry teased, "I was going to offer you one of the tickets."

"Yes!" Louis made a show of punching the air.

"And maybe offer Gemma the other one?" Harry added slowly, raising an eyebrow.

Louis whooped; Harry's sister was always a right hoot to be around and it had been ages since he'd seen her. They had always gotten on really well, both sharing the same sense of humour, and they maybe, slightly, kinda ganged up on Harry a little - but in a cute, funny way that Harry enjoyed even if he pretended he didn't. Of course, they were always careful never to cross the line - there was friendly ribbing and then there was outright hurtful humiliation. Neither wanted to hurt Harry; it was just that he was really cute and hiliarious when flustered or sheepish. And Gemma always had the best stories to share; the kind that embarrassed Harry so much he usually had to be talked out from behind his hands. Harry always got them back though, sharing _their_ embarrassing stories too - although there was definitely less of those. 

Harry was currently eying him suspiciously - probably knowing exactly what was going through his head. "Sounds good," Louis breezed, schooling his face into a picture of innocence. "Your choice obviously."

"Obviously," Harry echoed, eyes narrowed. There was a long pause and then Harry nailed him with, " _So_... _tell me_ , why have you stolen my t-shirt, again? Yes, _that_ one, the black YSL. I've been looking for that for weeks." He reached out to snag it off Louis's pile but Louis got there first.

"Finders keepers," he sing-songed, holding it close to his chest. "Fits me better anyway."

"No it doesn't. Give it back," Harry growled playfully, making another grab for it.

"Nope, the softness is all mine!" Louis shoved the shirt down his trousers in attempt to keep it out of Harry's reach, "HaHA!"

The second Harry stood up though, intent sparkling in his eyes, Louis legged it; shrieking with laughter as his friend gave chase. "Get your pixie sized self right back here with my property!"

Who said there was an age limit to acting like idiots?

~*~

SUGARSCAPE

**Lord of the Styles?**

_The curly haired heartthrob [pictured above] had tongues wagging on Thursday evening when he turned up to the London Premiere of his new film 'Ralston's Glory' with famed best friend Louis Tomlinson in tow. It's not the first time the Honourable Louis Tomlinson has joined Harry on the red carpet but it is the first time the two friends have made an appearance together since Harry admitted having a crush on his bestfriend. Harry's older sister, Gemma, was also with them - although she spent more time talking to newly single Evan Spiegle, which, hello, potential HOT new couple. Harry possibly failed to notice this, though, because his attention was completely taken up by his gorgeous best friend (and possible date!). The two celebs, who have known each other since high school (aww!), laughed and joked with the press as they walked the red carpet together. Louis looked absolutely drop-dead-gorge in three-quarter length Chinos and an Armani Astrakhan Effect Jacquard Wool Runway Jacket. Poor Harry could barely take his eyes off him! Not that we can blame him, Louis is stupidly handsome on an average day without adding in perfectly tailored clothes. However, what really got tongues wagging, aside from the constant flirty compliments and affectionate touches between the two, was Louis's confirmation that they lived together. In fact, he seemed rather delighted by it, admitting Harry's 'quite wonderful actually - cooks me dinner and always makes me a cup of tea first thing in the morning'. Is it possible Harry's affections may be reciprocated? Could Larry Stylinson be a real thing? While everyone has assumed Harry's crush is unrequited, as Louis's be linked to many female companions over the years, the young heir did not seem put off by Harry's adoration in the slightest. In fact, he seemed to actively encourage it. Needless to say, we're going to be watching these too bro-pals very closely over the next few months..._

~*~ 

Filming dates for the BBC drama were finalised by the end of July; recording would start in the middle of August and finish up mid October - allowing about two and half months for editing. As the location was only about twenty-five miles from Fulham, Harry decided to just drive there and back everyday as it was only 40 minutes either way. 

The first four weeks of filming were a solid 8.30-5, Monday to Friday, with only the occasional night shoot. The schedule coincided well with Louis's and they fell into a routine that was perhaps a bit too domestic to be entirely healthy. The day started with Louis waking-up at six thirty for his usual half-hour run. He went back to doing this alone as Harry preferred to exercise around the Cliveden grounds during his lunch break - a. because the grounds were beautiful and b. because he quite enjoyed having a little extra time in bed now that he was back working. After his run Louis would shower and shave quickly in order to be down in the kitchen by about quarter past seven. By then, Harry would have breakfast ready for them both and they would sit and eat together in front of the morning news. Harry would then head off to Clivedon at around 7.40 and Louis would clear up the kitchen before leaving for work himself. 

Whoever got home first in the evening would make a start on dinner and give the house a quick hoover/tidy. When the other one arrived home they'd often sit down and just enjoy a cuppa in the kitchen and chat about their day.  After that, they'd finish making dinner together and then sit down to eat at the table like dignified adults. This was Louis's thing, which Harry happily went along with. As a child he had been brought up to appreciate that dinner time was family time and possibly the only time during the day that they would all be together. It was a chance for everyone to catch up with everyone else and messages to be passed along and issues to be discussed etc etc. Zayn called it corny while Harry thought it sweet, which is why Harry was allowed to stay as long as he wanted in the best guest room while Zayn got the lumpy couch if he stayed over.

After clearing up their dirty dishes it was down to their own personal choice as to what they'd do next. Sometimes they would both settle down in the living room to watch TV or play some Xbox. Sometimes they would head out for a game of indoor fives with some of the local lads. Occasionally Louis would work on some schematics or a report while Harry learned lines. Sometimes Louis helped Harry practise his lines, which was a lot of fun. Louis had a flare for the dramatic. 

Bed time was around about ten-thirty. Harry would head up for his daily shower while Louis locked up the house and sorted stuff out for the next day. Eight hours later the routine was repeated. 

Weekends were less regimented time-wise than during the week. There were the necessary labours to run through - like the laundry, the ironing and the weekly shop. Friday nights had become their night for hanging out with friends and they often ended up stopping by Amelia's for updates on how Cole was getting on in Syria and how well her pregnancy was progressing. Nobody had really said anything but there was a general consensus that it was important to make sure Amelia was well supported - if this meant changing their plans to cater to a pregnant woman better then so be it. Harry was particularly giddy about the baby and had already dragged Louis and Amelia shopping for baby things. Louis secretly found his enthusiasm ridiculously sweet and couldn't bring himself to tease his friend about feeling broody. Zayn, Liam and Niall had no such hang-ups. 

Anyway, with Friday being their main night for hanging out with friends together, the weekends were left a lot freer for doing whatever they wanted. Sometimes on a Saturday Harry headed up north to visit his family or would head into the city to spend the day/attend an event with some of his industry friends. Louis would then take that opportunity to either pop over to his Grandfather's house or have an exceptionally long and foamy bath. The few Saturdays they had no plans they ended up either enjoying a little retail therapy together or took Liam's boys out somewhere fun. Saturdays were their 'do something' day.

Sundays, on the other hand, were always their day of leisure. Lazy, slow and unhurried, it was their one day of the week to rest and relax and re-energise. They usually always spent the day together – whether that be just a movie marathon that was more a ten hour chat about their favourite films or enjoying a more vigorous project together like a spot of DIY or a 2000 piece puzzle. Neither would admit it but, as 'uncool' as it was, they both thoroughly enjoyed spending the day with endless cups of tea and just sitting chatting as they attempted to put together a huge jigsaw for no other reason than procrastination. Perhaps it was the teamwork element, perhaps it was the challenge itself or maybe it was simply having the other person's undivided attention for 10 hours, either way it fast became their preferable way to spend a Sunday. Unfortunately, it didn't long stay their little geeky secret after Niall walked in one time, unannounced, and caught them at it. After laughing himself stupid for about ten minutes, he had posted a picture of the two of them and the half-finished puzzle to his Radio Twitter account.

@Niallhoran: #jigsawsunday what celebrities really get up to behind closed door :P @Harry_Styles & @Louis_Tomlinson proving they are as cool as a lava pit

So Jigsawsunday became a thing.

~*~

LATE SEPTEMBER

Early one Saturday morning Harry had to go back to Cliveden to re-shoot a scene – something about the audio being compromised by locational interference... or at least that's how Harry described it. Louis suspected it had a more technical title but he didn't quibble. Having little else to do that day, Louis decided to invite himself along and ended up having an absolute blast.

Matt Watson, the director, was thoroughly delighted to have him on set and insisted that Louis sit beside him to watch the filming. Louis accepted happily but soon wished he had gone with Harry to Wardrobe. While Louis knew they were filming a period drama, he hadn't been prepared for Harry's costume. Perhaps it was the top hat or the ruffled tie or maybe even the pocket-watch but whatever it was he found it hilariously endearing. Sheer willpower managed to get him through the first ten minutes without laughing but it didn't last - the clincher was the scene itself. Harry and another member of the cast had to fake a fight in which Harry ended up being pushed into the pond – long limbs flailing. Louis almost couldn't breathe he was laughing so hard. Luckily, he and Matt were sitting well back from the action so his stifled guffaws weren't picked up by the mics. Harry noticed though, as did the other actor who winked at him with a grin. 

Louis's laughter died away quickly, though, when Harry started to the wade out of the pond, Mr Darcy style, water dripping everywhere as the white shirt clung indecently to his abs. Louis's mouth went dry. He had always known his friend had quite the nice body... but he was suddenly struck by just how defined Harry's stomach muscles were through the sodden material – the dips sucking in the material so his torso looked like a massive tyre tread. Louis shifted uncomfortably, a little taken aback by the way his heart rate had picked up. It had been a very long time since he'd had a physical reaction like this and was kind of stumped in what to do.

Harry, the smug bastard, seemed to pick up on Louis's gaze and made a big deal out of wringing the excess water from his shirt so that the material clung all the more. Unsure of how to deal with whatever was making his insides tingle so warmly, Louis blurted out, "Oh Mr Darcy, in vain I have struggled. It will not do. My feelings will not be repressed. You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire your..." he deliberately looked Harry up and down and then glanced sceptically at the pond, "incredible fighting skills."

There was a short silence and then everyone from the sound engineers to the stylists were laughing themselves silly. And that is how Harry came to be nicknamed _Mr Darcy_ from that day forth. Even Dame Maggie Smith got in on the joke - purposefully ruining a scene much to everyone's entertainment. As Harry's character entered the drawing room, dripping wet, she intoned in a dry sarcastic voice, very reminiscent of Professor McGonagall, " _Mr Darcy_ , I have not the pleasure of," she paused for that all important second to assess him critically over her glasses as he dripped, dripped, dripped onto the expensive Arabian rug, "understanding you."

It took everyone quite a while to recover from that. Needless to say, the little blooper was a massive hit on Twitter when one of the younger cast members uploaded it.

The director, thoroughly charmed by Louis at this point, spent most of the lull before the next scene trying to talk him into a little cameo. Deciding it could prove a good bit of fun, Louis eventually agreed, although drew the line at getting paid. That's how, shortly after lunch, he found himself in the costume trailer squeezing himself into the most figure hugging pair of breeches ever made. Coupled with a cream, string-tied shirt, riding boots and a pair of brown leather braces, he felt like he was dressing up for some weird historical porn video rather than a ten second cameo in a BBC period drama. However, the effort it cost him to get those trousers on was well worth Harry's reaction. The poor guy actually fell up the trailer steps and seemed to lose all power of articulate speech. His greeting turned into something unrecognisable, 'Hey I he-zer had ugh ma gud hngh'. It was both utterly endearing and the awkward side of hilarious. Louis felt a little bad for laughing when Harry got so flustered with his embarrassment that he nearly fell backwards down the steps in his haste to fetch something he'd 'forgotten' in the make-up trailer. Grinning, Louis had hurried across to the door to watch him run away. However, his amusement quickly disappeared when, as soon as he seemingly thought he was out of Louis's eyesight, Harry put his face in his hands and visibly shuddered. Suddenly Louis didn't find the moment so funny anymore. With a pang of guilt he realised he had a tendency to forget that, beneath all the jokes, Harry's feelings were very real. 

He really shouldn't play up to Harry like that– it wasn't fair to lead him on, even if they _both_ took the banter lightheartedly. Of course, there was still a chance that whatever happened in Hungary would manifest itself into something proper but it really wasn't fair to string Harry along when there was so much uncertainty. Louis was too cowardly to risk his friendship with Harry by just jumping in blindly off the back of what could be a 'moment of mental instability' but he was also too selfish to let Harry go completely... just in case. It was moments of self-realisation like this that made Louis wonder what on earth Harry saw in him at all. 

~*~

END OF SEPTEMBER

It was the last Wednesday of the month - a typical, dull damp blustery autumn morning followed by an even worse evening - when Louis arrived home after work to hear Zayn's dulcet tones floating from the kitchen. As he put down his briefcase and started to undo his coat, he made to call out a greeting. However, the mention of his name stopped him short and he paused, straining hard to hear what was being said. It became clear really quickly that neither Zayn nor Harry had heard him come home. It also became swiftly apparent, too, that this was probably not a conversation he should listen in to. Like many humans before him, though, macabre curiosity – the kind that makes you slow down and gawk at a car crash - won out and he stayed rooted to the spot, eavesdropping shamelessly.

"So you think I should sign the contract then? Without even considering factoring him into the decision?" Harry sounded incredulous in his reply to whatever their friend had just said. Zayn, on the other hand, sounded calm and ever so slightly provocative,

"Why should he be?" he challenged. "You don't factor in _me_ or _Cole_ or Liam or Niall or even your immediate family into your career decisions so why do so with Louis?" There was a short pause before Zayn spoke again. This time his voice was so condescending it made Louis's skin crawl, "I know you have massive feelings for the guy but don't let them dictate your career, mate. Don't be the idiot who misses out on some amazing opportunities because he's holding out on the faintest of hopes of some requited feelings."

Louis couldn't even process the last part or get indignant over Zayn's harshness, he was too busy having an internal panic attack as he put two and two together. Just what contract were they talking about? What amazing opportunity might Harry loose out on if he wasn't careful? And why did Harry think Louis should be part of his decision in the first place? Was Harry leaving again? Would it be for longer than before, or, god forbid, permanently? Was that what the issue was? Was Harry contemplating moving away for work. _Oh jesus, no, god, no._ Louis's knees weakened.

"That was rather blunt," Harry grunted - not sounding best pleased.

"I know and I'm sorry but it's necessary," Zayn replied. "I love you mate and I do not want to stand idly by and watch you piss your opportunities away for no good reason."

"How do you _know_?" Harry's voice was soft but defiant and for a second Louis smiled with vindictive pride, _go on my lad, stand up for yourself_. 

When he had put Zayn up for the role of the villain he didn't know but it was a little alarming how quickly he had taken sides – especially since he'd just been Zayn's best-man.

"How do I know _what_?" Zayn asked, clearly confused.

"That it's not for a good reason?" It was uttered so quietly Louis's ears ached a little from straining to hear it.

There was a long moment of silence and Louis wondered what expression was on Zayn's face. Shock? Dismay? Concern? Consideration? Pity? His own was flittering between love, defiance and guilt. He wanted to say, _yes,_ there was a brilliantly good reason to factor him in to Harry's decisions but at the same he knew he wasn't in a position to mean that – he might never be in a position to mean that. However, it didn't stop him wanting to be selfish and make the claim anyway. Plus, there had been that moment by the Clivedon pond - there was a ray of hope that things could be changing.

" _Harry_..." Zayn seemed a little stunned judging from the breathlessness of his voice, "it's... it's been over ten years mate – seven of which he has been single – and nothing has ever happened. Not even a glimmer. How do you legitimately still have hope?" It wasn't said meanly and that was possibly Zayn's only saving grace.

"Because," Louis could hear Harry's loud swallow even from all the way out in the hall and it made his heart ache terribly, "I saw the devastation in his eyes when I told him I would be going to Guadeloupe for ten months. I heard the lie in his voice every time he tried to act blasé about the distance. I caught him hovering my passport over the kitchen bin a week before I left. I then watched him punch the countertop when he came to the decision he couldn't do that to me and slipped it back into the drawer. A week later I watched him try to hide the fact he was crying as I walked away towards the boarding gate. After that, I saw how much he missed me etched into his face every time we Skyped and I heard the rawness in his voice every time he kept me talking longer on the phone." Harry swallowed and he grew a little croaky, clearly well worked-up now. "Then, when I came home early for the wedding... the joy and relief in his eyes nearly had me on bended knee. Zayn... No one, _no one_ , with purely platonic feelings reacts like that and I defy you to convince me otherwise. I think he just needs time and I am willing to give him as much as necessary."

For a long moment nothing was said and Louis leant back against the wall, squeezing his eyes closed to keep tears from falling. _Oh Harry... you're right, I probably just need time. Don't give up on me yet. Please._

"Even if it's true," Zayn choked out, "even if you really did see all of that, I just don't think Louis will ever realise he can reciprocate your feelings and, even if he did, I don't think he would ever want to act on it."

" _What_?" The hurt in Harry's gasp was so painful that a few tears leaked down Louis's cheek. He wanted to hit Zayn so hard for saying that - for getting it so wrong and potentially ruining any chance he and Harry might have. He wanted to burst into the kitchen and shout it wasn't true - that he loved Harry and his reason for never pursuing it wasn't an emotional one but purely physical. But he couldn't do that. If he couldn't be everything Harry needed it wasn't fair to either of them for Louis to give Harry false hope. 

"Why? Because I'm a man?" Harry sounded all of five-years old. 

"No, it's not because you're a man," said Zayn slowly, "although I think that may be another significant factor. It's more because he's fucked up when it comes to relationships." Louis felt another overwhelming urge to go punch his friend, this time in resentment. Even though what Zayn was saying was probably true there were tactful ways to broach such a subject and this wasn't it. "And I don't mean the 'nervous about putting his heart on the line' kind of fucked up but a deep-seated, pathological 'damaged for future relationships' kind of fucked up. The kind I don't even know is curable."

Harry was painfully silent after that. Louis willed him to counter-argue, to defend him - to put Louis's own mind at rest that there _was_ hope and that this wasn't the end. At the very least Harry should reprimand Zayn for talking so untactfully about Louis's issues.

"Come on Haz," Zayn insisted softly, "we've all noticed it. Whatever happened between him and Eleanor was more than just a tragedy followed by a mutual break up. That much is obvious. Whatever happened damaged him so much he hasn't been able to have a relationship since. At the beginning I thought he just needed time - twelve months or so in a completely different city and in a completely different environment." He let out a long breath, "It's been seven years now and he seems further away from healing than he did in the beginning. So... maybe it's time for you to finally let go and move on - give yourself a chance at real happiness. This opportunity could really help you do that."

Taking a deep shuddering breath, Louis pushed away from the wall. He couldn't stand there and listen to Harry's reply - he couldn't keep quiet in the face of Harry potentially agreeing. Retracing his steps, he made a show of opening and shutting the front door _loudly_. By the time he'd traipsed into the kitchen, Harry and Zayn were acting as though the prior conversation had not taken place at all. 

"Louis! Great timing!" Harry piped cheerfully, although his eyes were rather watery and there was a slight tremble in his hands, telling Louis all he needed to know. "The kettle's just boiled."

"Excellent," Louis forced out before turning to Zayn with even more forced smile, "so," and he felt he pulled off the nonchalant pretty damned well, "what's with the grace of company Zayn? Bit early for you isn't it?"

"Just popped over to give Harry his coat back," was Zayn's smooth reply, "he left it on our couch the other day. Perrie kept forgetting to take to work and since I was at W6 this afternoon I thought I might as well kill two birds with one stone."

Louis knew he was outright lying. The night Zayn was talking about Harry definitely hadn't forgotten his coat because Louis had worn it home. For some reason he'd had a chill he couldn't shake and Harry had offered to swap jackets since his was thicker. By the look of Harry's face right now, he knew Louis was likely to realise it was a lie as well. Still, Louis felt like he had learned enough from his friend to pull off a bit of decent acting, "Oh right, that was decent of you. It's getting bloody cold out. Don't was Haz getting sick during filming." He took a seat, "Anyway, since you're here we might as well discuss the travel plans for Niall's stag. We'll need to book flights and the sooner the better."

~*~

A WEEK LATER

Perrie honestly hadn't known Harry had yet to tell Louis the news. Letting the cat out of the bag had been an honest mistake on her part and, in retrospect, Louis was kinda glad she did it.

They were packing up for the day, both too tired and achy, after having spent hours bent over their new prototype, to have the enthusiasm to stay on and start the next section. They still had a week to get it finished and tested before the client would be down for the official viewing, which was plenty of time really. With Liam up in Birmingham meeting a client, Louis would be travelling home on his own today – which would give him a chance to finally read the new bioengineering periodical from Oxford University. It had been sitting in his tray for almost two weeks now, calling out to him eagerly. 

As they walked towards the lift they bumped into Lauren who mentioned there had been an article about the BBC drama in the Radio Times today and said to tell Harry it had been well received by the magazine. She then wished them both a good evening and headed away with a crack about 'lucky folk who finish dead on five'. The two of them had rolled their eyes good naturedly - no one knew better than Lauren that Louis frequently finished hours after his official clocking off time. After pressing the button to call the lift Perrie leaned against the wall and oh so casually said, "Hey, talking of Harry, has he made a decision about the show yet?"

"What show? The BBC one?" Louis asked, a kittle distractedly. The doors opened and they stepped into the lift.

"No, not that one. I'm talking about the... you know..." she flapped her hand as though that would convey her meaning as she tried to find the words, "the contract for signing on to play Gabriel for two more series."

Louis's stomach gave a sickening downwards jolt even though the lift doors had not even closed yet. _Shit!_ Harry had been asked to renew his contract? Why hadn't he said anything? Or had he and Louis hadn't been listening. Fuck, if Harry signed on did that mean he would be leaving for location as soon as the BBC thing finished? God no. _Please_ no. That was way too soon. Waaaaaaaaaay too soon. Louis' heart was ramming against his ribcage. "I didn't even know he'd been asked," he choked out.

Perrie's eyes widened comically, instantly horrified, "Oh my god, he _still_ hasn't told you?! _Shit_ , I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have said anything. I honestly thought he would have told you by now."

Louis's head shot up. _Still hasn't told me_ , he repeated sharply? Did that mean Harry had known about the contract renewal for a while now? The thought of Harry keeping secrets like that from him left a bitter taste in his mouth. Then it suddenly dawned on him – what the conversation he'd overhead between Harry and Zayn had been about. Shit, shit, shit! He should have put two and two together long before this. It was obvious thinking back on it. Harry had even talked about Guadeloupe that night! Plus, Louis had already known the contract to sign on for another few series would come up before the end of the year. Only... he thought it would be closer to December than the beginning of October.

"It's okay," he rattled off, the words dry and chalky in his mouth, "I thought something was up. He's been a bit weird recently so I'm glad you told me and I now know what it is. I guess he didn't want to say anything to me until he'd made a decision. Which I can understand... Don't worry, I won't drop you in it. Promise." He shot her a reassuring smile – it probably came across as rather constipated.

Perrie, as figured, did not look convinced but she nodded gratefully anyway, "Well, there really isn't much for him to say right now. All I know is he has to make a decision by the beginning of December. Supposedly once they have the actors on board they'll apply for renewal with the board."

So the renewal itself wasn't in the bag yet, Louis realised, but there as little hope of Harry turning down the contract as there was of show being cancelled. The show was too big not to get renewed if everyone signed on and Harry wouldn't have it in his heart to let down his millions of fans by being the sole reason the show was cancelled. A lump rose in Louis's throat, _fuck_ , how far away would the next series be filmed? _Australia? Antarctica? Outer space?_ God, he really, _really_ didn't think he could take another separation like the Guadeloupe one – especially not now they'd been living together for five months. Something had to change. There was a good possibility it might have to be him. Maybe he should swap careers and follow Harry out on location. Either that or it might, finally, be the time he faced his demons.

~*~

If ever there was a time for the La Scala it was it now. His need for comfort had never been greater. Well... not since he was four years old anyway. But at least when he was a child he'd had his mum readily available to cuddle him close and murmur soothing promises in his ear that everything would be alright. These days, his mother was 230 miles away and had her hands full with two sets of twins. For each of her three older children, who had already flown the nest, her time could barely be extended to one phone call a week – or twice a year for her elder son of whom her ties were strained. She, therefore, wasn't going to pop by at the drop of a hat to offer a soothing hug and some words of wisdom. Anyway, he was an adult, pushing thirty, and he should be able to deal with situations like this thus.

He switched the bathroom lights on and stepped inside, scrubbing the back of his hand over his watering eyes. Illuminated by the soft blue lights of the plinth, the luxury La Scala bathtub looked like heaven's gates - beckoning him forth with gentle, unthreatening, seduction. He loosened his tie and crossed the marble tiled floor to turn on the taps. Immediately the water started to flow into the tub and steam began to rise. He took a moment to breathe it in – letting the moist air revitalise his city grimed senses and relieve some of the growing pressure behind his eyes.

Traipsing back out of the warm bathroom, he headed back down the stairs to grab himself a glass of wine. If he was going to do this, have the mother of introspective soul searches, he was going to go all out. In all honesty, apart from the occasional stag night or birthday party, he wasn't a heavy drinker, not at all. He'd grown out of it shortly after uni when a particularly nasty hangover had cost him the tip of his little finger. Tonight, however, he pulled out his largest wine glass and poured himself a generous measure then deliberately gave himself an extra inch before slipping the bottle back in the fridge. Fuck... he needed it.

Upon returning to the bathroom he forwent any pretence of machismo by rifling through the cupboard for his secret stash of Lush bath bombs. He threw one into the water with a little more agitation than necessary, having to step back to avoid the splash, and took a large sip of wine to calm himself down again.

Luckily he would have peace as Harry wasn't due back until after seven – what with having to shoot a scene outside in the dusk of twilight. By the time Louis had slipped his clothes off, leaving them in a puddle on the floor, the bath was nearly full. Grabbing his wine from the counter, he put it down on the corner of the bath and carefully stepped in. The heat pricked at his skin and he had to brace himself for sitting down. He hissed as the hot water seared the skin of his balls but he forced himself to sit through it. After a few moments he acclimatised and with a groan he sank down under the hot water until it tickled his neck.

So... Harry had been asked to renew his contract for another two series. There was no point in hoping they would film anywhere close to London – that wasn't how the show worked. It's whole lure was based around it's characters moving to a different part of the world each season. The likelihood of the next two locations being close to Britain was so ridiculously low it was pointless to even consider it. And, anyway, even when the show was closer to England, i.e. in Europe, Harry hardly ever came home anyway. The truth was; if Harry signed on for another two series then the next two years would be Guadeloupe all over again - only for two years instead of one. But why did Louis care so much this time around? Was it because he now knew what to expect? Was it because he couldn't kid himself that Harry would come back frequently - as he had before the location had moved to Guadeloupe? Or had living with Harry these past few months broken down an emotional barrier so that he could no longer compartmentalise his feelings. Louis swallowed hard and reached for his glass. Who was he kidding; the answer was definitely all three. And what made it a hundred times worse, thanks to Zayn, was the new all encompassing fear that Harry might use the distance to try to get over Louis rather than let his heart grow fonder - right as Louis was finally admitting to himself that he was very much emotionally invested. 

So... what was he going to do about it? What _could_ he do? The choice to go was ultimately Harry's and Louis should not stick his oar in unless there was a really good reason. That being said, he did know of one good reason which might not influence Harry's decision to go but would certainly forestall any 'moving on'. It would require being brutally honest with Harry about _all_ of his issues - particularly his intimacy ones. It wasn't set in stone that he wouldn't get over them - maybe Harry would help him? But what if he couldn't get over them? Or worse, he found out he couldn't have... Louis shuddered. Would Harry be able to accept that? After all, Harry was a very family orientated person. He was also a tactile person too and while Louis had never seen Harry on the pull or even in a relationship – those flings had always played out miles from home – he imagined Harry would be quite a physically intimate partner.   
Even if he could move past his issues, it would, in no doubt, take months, if not _years_ , of therapy to fix himself. Would Harry be willing to wait that long? Would he be willing to accept the risk that Louis might never be able to fulfil all parts of a traditional relationship? Was it fair to even offer Harry the choice? How sure was Louis of his own feelings to risk putting Harry's heart on the line? 

The knock on the door had him nearly jumping out of his skin and the wine slopped over the rim of the glass. _Shit_!

"Lou?" Harry sounded cautious.

Louis groaned and sank down even further under the water, squeezing his eyes closed in irritation; could he not even have half an hour of peace for an internal psyche out? Crikey. His life was such a drama.

"Yeah?" He sighed, absently pushing a large pile of bubbles away from his chin..

There was a pause and Louis could almost picture Harry fidgeting outside the door, "Are you okay?"

Christ, he had to derail this conversation right now if he wanted to have any future peace. "Have we really got to the point where we talk while one of us is on the throne?"  
  


Harry's snort was audible even through the thick white wooden door, "Normally, I'd leave it _well_ alone but I can hear the thrum of the bath quite clearly and I'm guessing you're not taking a shit in the tub."

Louis sighed and glared down at the gently bubbling jets, "you had _one_ job," he muttered, then added louder, "what do you want?" He sat up a bit so he could take another slurp of wine, willing his friend to just _go._

"Can I come in?"

"No!" Louis yelped in alarm, "let a guy have a bath in peace!" He could almost feel Harry's eye roll as the door opened. Louis wished he hadn't left his sponge on the counter - his wine was too precious to throw. "Hey!" He cried indignantly. "This is an invasion of privacy! I'm naked here!"

"Nothing I ain't seen before. I won't ogle, promise."

Louis glared as furiously as he could as Harry stepped inside, only taking a split second to admire how nice the new maroon jumper looked on his friend. Coupled with a pair of skinnies and a red wind-chilled cheeks, the jumper made Harry look incredibly soft and cuddly. Not that that was going to make Louis give in to him - this was a matter of principle. For a moment they just stared at each other, Harry's eyes a fierce green and full of shrewd assessment, Louis's determinedly unwelcoming. Then Harry's shoulders dropped on a heavy sigh and he trudged over towards the tub, perching on the far end. From his weary expression Louis knew _he knew_ he knew. 

He looked away as Harry said. "Perrie texted me."

Louis nodded to himself, figuring as much, but felt he ought to make Harry work for it in revenge for invading his privacy, "Oh? What did she want?" He played, "They coming over later or something?"

"Louis..." Harry groaned, rubbing at his temples in frustration, "you're sitting in a bubble bath at six thirty in the evening with a glass of wine... its your classic 'I've got to calm down and think' activity. I'm not stupid, stop playing dumb. I know you know." He cleared his throat and looked down at his lap, "She told me she accidentally told you about the contract."

Louis didn't say anything. He didn't need to.

Harry licked his lips and looked up, "Are you upset I didn't tell you earlier?"

"No," Louis sighed, taking another sip of his wine before holding it out to Harry, "I gathered you didn't want to tell me until you'd made a decision." This was at least true.

"Yeah," said Harry quietly, nodding, "that's it exactly." He took the pro-offered glass and took a sip before handing it back to Louis.

"And have you made a decision?" Louis asked quietly, playing with the surface of the water in attempt to distract himself from watching a potential car crash coming his way. He'd rather it hit him bam! than slide towards him at a speed that he had enough time to acknowledge it was going to hurt.

"Not quite," said Harry after a long moment. "I don't want to be gone as long as I was when we were shooting in Guadeloupe. Of course, unless they choose somewhere equally as hot we won't have the same filming restrictions as we did there. The overwhelming heat really cut down on our workable daylight hours. Choosing somewhere cooler would mean we would be able to get more filmed during the day and the overall location time would be a lot shorter. More like when we shot in Europe. That would mean I wouldn't have to be out of the country for as long," he paused before adding. "Even so, five months without a decent break is still too long for me."

"When do you think you'll find out the next location?"

Harry chewed his lower lip for a moment before shrugging, "Probably long after I sign the contract. But..." he tipped his head to the side and surveyed Louis pensively, "I think I've earned myself plenty of leverage. Not meaning to sound smug but there really is no program without Gabriel. Therefore, it really all does hang on me extending the contract. It also means I probably have some leverage to negotiate terms. For example, I could attempt a proviso i.e. I'll sign on for another two series providing I am not on location for more than four months without a substantial break." Four months is still too long, Louis thought miserably. Harry must have read it in his face because he added, "I have to be realistic here. A whole series takes a long time to film. However, I could request that indoor scenes be filmed in London and we only go on location for outdoor shoots. That would reduce my time away even more and would probably save the company a fortune on production costs."

"That's true..." Louis nodded slowly. "Okay. Here's a question. Apart from the location issue, which, granted is a big deal, do you want to carry on with the program? Forget any obligations to the fans and to the unfinished storyline" said Louis, "do _you_ want to keep going? Do you enjoy the work? Would you regret not signing on." This was really what it all boiled down to.

Harry thought about it for a long moment and decided, "I do love playing Gabriel, he's literally a part of me now, so yes. I do want to keep going – at least until the story reaches a good ending. I would probably regret not signing on."

Louis nodded, he had expected as much and that was all he needed to make a decision. "Then you go play him. By all means, try to negotiate a better location deal but, ultimately, if you love the role then stick it out - even if they turn around and say they can't change the locations to suit you. There are probably only a few seasons left and goodness knows when you'll get another long term part that you'll enjoy playing as much."

"That's it?" Harry's expression had taken a nosedive and he was looking down at the tiled floor with barely disguised disappointment. He had clearly hoped Louis would tell him that family and friends were more important than his career, which was pretty stupid to have expected. What kind of friend said that unless someone was dying? Crikey. "Seriously?" Harry pressed, "That's all you have to say on the matter?" He sounded close to tears, "You _really_ don't think the distance is a big deal? Considering how much you told me you missed me last time, you really don't think the distance is a big deal? I've actually been agonising over this for _nothing_?"

Louis let out a shaky breath; he hated seeing Harry upset but he hated being the cause of it even more. "My opinion shouldn't matter Haz," he pleaded. "This is _your_ decision." Harry stubbornly kept looking down at his lap, refusing to accept that and Louis sighed deeply. He pushed himself upright and reached out to wrap a hand around Harry's arm, urging him to both look and listen to him. "In all honesty, I would like nothing more than you to say 'bugger it, it's too far for too long, I'm staying in London and that's that'. But I am not selfish enough to guilt-trip you into doing that. I don't want to be the reason you regret missing out on an opportunity of a lifetime and I believe all our other friends and your family would say the exact same thing. Don't get me wrong, you leaving for nine months again would kill me as much as it would your mum but, at the end of the day, this is _your_ life and _your_ career and _your_ decision. I want you to be happy, so does everyone else, and if that means you going away again for nine months on location then we will all find a way to cope with it. If Amelia can handle seven months with only one phone call a week from Cole who's in a fucking warzone then _we_ can definitely cope with you being just a text or skype call away at any given time on a bloody beach in paradise. Trust me, if it makes _you_ happy to go then we will find a way to make it work. _And_ if it makes it any easier then let me remind you that, if you do go, your room will still be here for you once you've finished gallivanting across the world and..." he took a breath, heart beating wildly as he dared himself to finally drop a hint, "so will _I_." Maybe by then I'll be ready for you, he added silently.

Harry's head snapped up and he stared at Louis for a long moment, deep and searching, until Louis's soul started to feel itchy, Then Harry nodded, once, sharp and short, "Okay." It wasn't a happy agreement nor was it one full of defeat so Louis took it to mean all hope wasn't lost yet.

~*~

EARLY OCTOBER

Sweat tickled it's way down his back, pooling uncomfortably against the saturated waistband of his shorts. His heat thudding to the steady tread of his running feet. Nearly home. As he turned the corner onto his own street Louis looked ahead and saw the familiar red jacket of the postman crossing the road. He was really early today, which was a pleasant surprise. Sometimes he only just caught the mail as he was rushing out to work. 

Slowing to a walk and panting hard, Louis used the edge of his shirt to mop the sweat from his face. It was only five past seven but it wasn't as peaceful as it was when he first set out - London was up and running already. He could hear the clank and whoosh of a bin lorry collecting waste a few streets over, the rush of traffic from the main road, the distant beeps of a truck reversing, the slam of doors and revs of cars starting up and, most noticeably, the excited cry of gulls as they swooped over the roofs looking for anything salvageable for breakfast. 

As he approach his house, he noticed his neighbour's car was still absent from behind Harry's Rover, as it had also been last night. He guessed the guy must be in Bristol right now - although he hadn't mentioned anything about it. Normally he caught Louis the morning before to give him the heads-up so that Louis could put out the bins for him and keep an eye out on the empty house. Other than the occasional 'good morning' or 'hello', it was the most interaction they ever had. Friendly neighbourhood watching really was the extend of this area's socialness - such was the problem of living amongst the business sector's 9 to 5ers. For example, other than having a second home in Bristol, Louis didn't really know much about Mr Kapoor, except that he was an executive sales manager of some kind of  trading company and widowed with two fully grown children - who had long flown the nest. It was probably a very poor show on both their parts considering they had lived next to each other for about six years. Kapoor had moved in a while after Louis had. The story was similar with his left-hand neighbours too. The Langs were around a lot more than Mr Kapoor was but they were as equally quiet and unknown. What Louis did know about them was that they were both in their early forties and their only child was studying veterinary medicine at Exeter University. Mr Lang was high up in the management chain of Debenhams while his wife was a tennis coach who worked odd hours to suit her clients. Their curtains were currently still closed but he knew it wouldn't be long before they were up as well... 

Shivering in the cool wind, he jogged the last small stretch to his house and noted his conifers, which strategically blocked his living room window from the road, would shortly need a trim. They were starting to balloon out over the top of the low rise wall and he knew the pernickety council would down on him like a tonne of bricks if they outgrew the rules by even a millimetre. That was the council for you; they took _a year_ to fix certain potholes in the road and sometimes up to three years to change a blown lamp light but if a resident so much as violated a tiny little boundary rule they'd be on them like a winning lottery ticket. 

Pushing through the front door, he automatically stepped over the small pile of post and kicked off his trainers. Only then did he turn and pick up the post, dropping it on the side table to deal with after his shower.

Harry was just pouring the tea when Louis entered the kitchen, fully dressed with the mail in hand. He looked over his shoulder with a warm, sleepy smile and mumbled ' _Mornin'_ Lou, good run?" Harry's bed hair was a soft tousled mess, which complimented his rumpled worn t-shirt and Louis felt his stomach swoop with the urgent desire to go over and cuddle up with him.

"Yeah," he said instead, "it was quite peaceful today – no kamikaze squirrels at least."

"Still wished I had been there," Harry chuckled, sleepiness making his voice extra deep. "I bet that would have been a Youtube moment if ever there was one."

"It wasn't funny! That fucking thing scared the bloody crap out of me," Louis shuddered, "landing on my back like that. Thought I had been pooped on by a mutant pigeon!" Harry barked out a laugh and gestured towards the table where their breakfast had been laid out. 

"Only you would be more scared of a pigeon than a squirrel."

"Hey!" Louis protested as he sat down, "pigeons are evil little fuckers... what with their little beady eyes and their frequently deformed legs and their shabby flappy wings and their penchant for carrying nasty diseases." 

"Oh, is that why you screamed blue murder when that pigeon flew into the bathroom?" Harry teased, "You were afraid it was going to flap the Black Death all over you."

Louis just shot him a two fingered salute and tore into his egg on toast. _Fucking pigeons_. As he ate he started separating the mail with his one free hand. There wasn't a lot today; just an industry magazine, what looked like a phone bill, a letter from the AG for Harry, a bank statement, two clothing catalogues, a Barclay Card junk letter and a small postcard envelope – hand addressed.

" _Oh god_ , looks like I've got another wedding invitation," he joked, putting down his toast to open it up. It was indeed a wedding invitation – all purple, silver and white flowered with a pretty ribbon and swoopy font.

"Who's it from?" Harry asked as he placed a mug of tea in front of Louis and took a seat opposite.

Louis slipped the invite fully out of the envelope and something fell out of it, which he momentarily ignored as he read the front of the main card. "Holy fucking shit!" He swore, reeling backwards. **Eleanor Jane Calder and Richard Kerse Hedde request the honour of your presence (+1) at their marriage on Saturday, 31st January 2016 at 11am 148 Kirkway, Middleton, Manchester M24 1LN and afterwards at the The Old Grammar School, Boarshaw Road, Middleton, M24 6BR.**

He flipped it over to see if there was a 'You've been punked' on the back but it was blank. For a moment his jaw worked up and down as he tried to find an appropriate reaction. Like a fever, he flashed through disbelief, shock, anger, fury, derision, humour and back to disbelief again – which left him feeling a bit hot and shaky.

"What is it?" Harry asked in concern, reaching out.

Louis handed the card over wordlessly. Harry's eyebrows nearly shot off his forehead when he read the inscription, "What the...?!" He stared at Louis open-mouthed.

" _I know_ ," Louis choked out, "I thought the 'save the date' had been a joke." He took a steadying sip of his tea.

"Clearly not, I guess..." Harry muttered, also flipping the card over to check for authenticity. He raised an eyebrow, "Are you going to go?"

Louis choked on his tea, causing it to dribble down the sides of the mug, "What? Are you crazy!?" He cried, "Why the hell would I want to go to that?!"

Harry shrugged, "I dunno. It might be closure for both of you? It's probably why she's invited you... so you can both show you've let go of the past and she can move on without your history hanging over her."

And there it was in a nutshell – the reality-shock reminder that Harry still had no clue of what happened between him and Eleanor - why they had split up and why Louis was still so damaged.

"If that is her purpose with this," he ground out, "then she has serious problems if she actually thinks I would turn up." He picked up the slip of card that had fallen to the table and went to grab a pen and an envelope. After scrawling a quick message and (perhaps a little overzealously) crossing the 'regret to decline' box, he slid the card into the envelope and sealed it. The reply address he'd recognised and knew by heart as Eleanor's mother's. He paused momentarily, wondering if maybe this invitation was actually her mother's doing but then he remembered it was El's handwriting on the 'save the date' card. Nevermind. He continued to write the address.

After it was done he shoved the reply into his briefcase to post later and returned to his breakfast, enjoying it significantly less than before.

~*~

MID-OCTOBER

Three days before the BBC wrap party, Louis and Perrie were running diagnostics on the a 3rd generation prototype when a wire suddenly went up in smoke. Surprised, Louis jumped and his hand slipped, touching the metal board. Almost instantly he felt a sharp pinch in his hand and his body went rigid as every muscle in his body painfully contracted to the point it felt like his insides were about to burst outwards. It was absolute white-hot agony but he couldn't scream - his mouth was paralysed, he couldn't let go either, his muscles were locked. The sound of electric popping had  Perrie spinning around in her chair bd the moment she realised what was happening she screamed in horror. Lunging for the emergency power button she killed the electrics just as Liam, Shaun and David burst into the room. Without hesitating, the three of them immediately pried Louis away from the table using the safety sticks. He fell limply to the floor, unable to control himself, but he hurt too much to feel the impact of the hard floor. Something warm and wet exploded over his trousers. Above him, David grabbed the nearest extinguisher and quickly started to put out the fire that had engulfed the machine. Seconds later he was being manhandled onto his side and an oxygen mask slipped over his mouth and nose. The waft of cool air was surprisingly relieving. 

"Louis?" Liam's voice warbled in his ear. He felt a soothing hand run through his hair and he opened his eyes, not knowing when he'd closed them. "how you doing there, buddy?"

"Sore," he rasped.

Liam snorted, "Not surprised mate. Pez, go and call an ambulance will you."

Although dazed, achy and barely able to walk, Louis insisted an ambulance wasn't necessary but agreed to go to A&E for a check up. Guy's hospital was literally a ten minute walk away but there was no way Louis could make that distance so Liam called a taxi. He, along with Perrie, accompanied Louis to the hospital.

As it was just after lunch-time the A&E was relatively quiet and his reduced lucidness put Louis at the top of their list of priorities. He was thankful as he kept getting looks of recognition from the other patients in the waiting room. 

They ran a few tests but in the end the doctors decided there was no lasting damage – just some minor 2nd degree contact burns to his right hand and foot which Louis hadn't noticed before. They were both roughly the size of a ten pence piece and black from where the skin had been charred. He had been too disorientated to even feel the one on his hand and had been doubly taken aback when the doctor had removed his shoe to point out the one on his foot. In the back of his foggy mind he vaguely remembered that a current always left an entry and exit wound. Despite looking ugly the wounds were not too serious providing they were kept super clean. There should be minimal scarring and probably no long term muscular injury either. Due to the amperage, they ran a few tests to make sure he had suffered no internal damage but found he had little to no trauma to his brain or vital organs. However, he _had_ put his body through an almighty ordeal and so he could expect to feel fatigue and muscle tenderness for a good few days. They weren't kidding. By the time the nurse had finished tending to his wounds Louis felt like he'd been hit by a truck. Everything ached and he could barely keep his eyes open.

"That's you done love," the woman said gently, discarding her equipment, "remember to change the dressing everyday exactly as the pamphlet says. If there are any signs of an infection contact your doctor immediately." Louis nodded obediently and took the NHS bag full of ointment and spare dressings and nearly dropped them as his sluggish reaction made his grip weak. She patted his arm sympathetically, "I suggest you go home and rest, now. You're going to fee exhausted for a good few days. Would you like some assistance getting back to the waiting room?"

"I don't think so..." Louis replied as he slowly stood up. "Whoa." He suddenly felt the ground lurch sickeningly and grabbed out for the bed. The nurse was quick to steady him, "I think a wheelchair would be wise."

"No!" Louis squeaked in horror, "no, no... I'm okay... just... give me a second... think I stood up too quickly there."

Playing deaf to his protests, the nurse firmly guided him back out to the waiting room with one hand supporting his elbow and the other his back. Out of respect for the other patients, Liam and Perrie were sitting in the furthest away row of seating and were talking to... oh god... was that _Harry_? Shit, he groaned to himself, now he was in trouble. Cringing in preparation for what would likely come, he made a step in their direction. Harry was going to fuss something awful. He had clearly just come from his scheduled lunch with Nick because he was still dressed in his business attire. Hopefully they had finished their meal and Harry hadn't fled out of there mid-sentence. Nick hated Louis enough as it was. 

Harry seemed fairly calm, the only sign of concern coming from the way he played with his car keys. He figured someone must have informed them of the good prognosis. That was a relief, Louis didn't think he could find the energy to deal with overblown fussing right now. In fact, unless it was a direct route to bed, Louis didn't think he had the energy to deal with anything right now.

Perrie was the first to spot them. She stood up and waved before nudging the other two as she gathered up her stuff. They jumped to their feet too and the three of them walked over. About twenty sets of curious eyes followed their movements although Harry didn't seem to notice. His expression was soft and sympathetic and focused only on his friend and Louis suddenly wanted nothing more than to fall into his embrace and be cuddled like a child. So he did just that, stumbling forward with a pained whimper. Harry didn't hesitate for a second and gently folded his arms around him, rubbing his back soothingly.

"Everything okay?" Liam asked.

The nurse nodded, "I'm sure the doctor has already spoken to you but just to recap; Louis has two small second degree burns – one to his right hand and one to his right foot. He's been shown how to clean them and how to change the dressings, which must be done everyday. There are two weeks worth of supplies in here." Although he couldn't see it, Louis heard the paper bag being handed over to one of the others. He'd obvious forgotten to lift it after his dizzy spell. He closed his eyes, feeling the powerful draw of sleep crawl over him once more. Harry's coat was so soft and smelled like new carpet, he breathed it in deep and felt his limbs start to relax. Harry's arms tightened around him reflexively. "While he hasn't suffered any serious internal damage," the nurse continued, "his body has been through quite a trauma so he will feel sore and exhausted for a few days. Plenty of bedrest, plenty of fluids and any sign of infection in the wounds then he must contact his doctor immediately."

"Okay, thank you Ma'am," Harry nodded calmly, reaching out to shake her hand. Then he rubbed Louis's back again, "Come on Lou, let's get you home."

The moment they got outside there was a chorus of shouts and then there were camera's in their faces, clicking away. Harry quickly shielded Louis with his coat and both Liam and Perrie blocked them in between them protectively.

"What happened Louis? Were you attacked?" One photographer called; sounding quite thrilled at the prospect.

"Are you ill?" Asked another.

"How do you respond to rumours of a drug problem?" A third yelled.

Disorientated but not deaf, Louis snorted and stopped short, tugging Harry's arm gently to loosen his grip. He faced the group, "You're just making that up," he croaked at the last person who had spoken, deciding on amusement rather than outrage, "slander can land you in a lot of trouble sir," he waggled his finger. There was a murmur of laughter and more clicks of shutters. "Look guys," Louis sighed, the ground felt like it was moving under him and he desperately wanted to sit down, "I had a minor accident at work – well as minor as an electric shock can be," he added hastily hearing Harry's disbelieving harrumph, "but the nurse bandaged me up good and proper," he waved his hand sheepishly. "Everything's fine, no lasting damage, but I do feel like I've been hit by a bus." There was a palpable dropping of shoulders. "I know, I know," he managed to chuckle, "it's a boring story but we all know the truth is usually pretty boring anyway."

"Now, if you don't mind, I'd like to get him home so he can rest," Harry put in firmly, pushing Louis forwards. "I'm sure he'll let you have more details later on Twitter if anyone is that desperate." Not giving an inch, Harry led Louis over to his car and helped him climb in to the front seat - even assisting with clicking on his seatbelt as Louis's arms felt like dead weights. By the time the door had closed and Harry had checked to see whether Liam or Perrie wanted a ride (which they declined as they needed to get back to the office and fill in an incident report), Louis was fast asleep. The paps caught a last few shots of Harry getting into the driver's seat before leaving themselves.

 

 

Louis was so tired that he spent the next three days lying on the couch, too exhausted and sore to do much more than jab weakly at the TV remote. Who knew that even with Virgin's top package that you could have hundred's of TV channels but nothing particularly exciting to watch? Harry hovered. He tried not to or at least he tried to give the illusion he wasn't but he was and Louis really didn't mind. It was nice to have someone around when you weren't feeling your best. From having a cup of tea with him to answering emails on his laptop or folding up clean clothes, Harry found every excuse in the book to stay near the couch. It was sweet and Louis knew that it wasn't all for him – Harry probably needed the constant reminder that Louis was okay as much as Louis did himself. God knows how Harry must have felt when he'd received the phone call. Of course, Louis put Harry's hovering to good use; making him help chose thank-you presents for Liam, Perrie, David and Shaun for saving his life and having him rubbing his muscles whenever he suddenly got cramp. Altogether it wasn't the worst way to spend a couple of days.

 


	9. Chapter 8

NOVEMBER - THE EVE OF NIALL'S STAG NIGHT

Louis' eyes burned fiercely, silently screaming at him to take a break. He had been working on Doppler Effect calculations for almost two hours now and the sums were just not happening. As their new project involved inventing a revolving mirror system it was imperative that the behaviour of the light in relation to motion be taken into account and controlled. He knuckled his eyes but the numbers kept swimming in front of him, haloed and mocking. _Shit_ , Louis sighed to himself, he really ought to bite the bullet and get an eye test. While tiredness was definitely a part of the problem, the straining thing had been an ongoing issue for years. As it was, the pencilled formula he had just written down, Fd = 2Vz / λ, floated across his vision looking more like Fdd- 2Wzz // d. That was definitely not conducive to good accurate work. He was also getting the beginnings of a throbbing headache - right behind his eyes – classic symptoms, or so he'd been told, of eye strain. 

Sighing, he dropped his pen to the desk and reached for his tepid tea. The building was silent around him – most workers having long gone home. With only the hallway lights giving the building life it all felt dreary and isolating... 

BUZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ

Louis jumped about a foot in the air and slopped his tea as the conference phone began to buzz - flashing 'incoming video call'. Heart thudding wildly, he leaned forward to peer at the name, "Gabriel's iPad. Accept?"

Breaking into a grin, he hit the accept button and turned his attention to the large conference screen on the opposite wall. It took a second but Harry's face appeared, squinting and ducking as though he couldn't see his screen properly. He'd had the same issue last night so Louis gave him a second to get comfortable - taking the opportunity to save his Document lest he lose any work. Sometimes he just had to _look_ at the monitor and the programme would encounter an error. Sure, he might not be getting anywhere fast tonight but he didn't want to risk losing the small amount of groundwork he'd laid out. 

Suddenly the lighting on Harry's end improved and Louis could see he was sitting in his hotel room as the balcony was clearly visible in the background. Although Niall's stag-do wasn't until tomorrow night, Harry had flown over to Dublin early because Nick thought it would be a great opportunity to get some extra promo done. Harry had agreed and had flown out early on Tuesday. He'd spent the last few days hitting up Radio Stations, magazines and TV shows – raising interest in the BBC drama and discussing a potential new series of Men Of Glory. Without having an actual physical contract for another season, he was in that tasty limbo where he could parade around and make himself known to other prospectors by dangling the 'not yet renewed' card for Men of Glory. Louis had to commend him on how he had carefully exploited it so far. Harry's idea was to lightly make himself seem 'potentially available for other projects' in an attempt to unnerve the team behind Men of Glory. If they were worried about him not signing on then they would likely be keen to do whatever they could to encourge him to sign - like negotiate in favour of a shorter location time. It was genius really. 

Things had clearly relaxed for the night on Harry's end; his curls had be scrawled back into a messy ponytail and he was wearing nothing but an old white t-shirt and some trackies. Despite looking comfy, Harry's expression was anything but relaxed. In fact, if Louis didn't know any better he would think Harry was actually angry that Louis had answered the call. 

"So you _are_ still at work," Harry gritted out by way of a greeting, "for fuck's sake Lou it's almost eight-thirty. Have you even had dinner yet?" 

Oh, okay, so Louis was in for a nagging. Bloody brilliant. _Just_ what he needed. His headache went up a notch, throbbing right behind his eyes. With no energy to fumble up a lie, Louis shook his head and sighed, "Unfortunately not; no." Leaning back in his chair, he felt a rumble of distant hunger resound through his stomach as though the reminder of food was all it needed to start grumbling. "I haven't had the chance yet. I really need to get these calculations done before I leave." He hoped by citing work pressure he would make Harry more sympathetic to his plight. "I've got a meeting with the client first thing on Tuesday and they'll want to see the schematics. If I'm coming to Ireland for the weekend then I'll only have Monday to draw the document up and that's pushing it, even for me. If tomorrow wasn't so important for Niall I would beg off and spend the weekend trying to get it finished. That melt down the other week really buggered the schedule up."

To his relief, Harry made a noise of commiseration, "That's shit mate. You'd think by now they'd give you a more realistic time scale so that if the worst does happen then you'd have enough time to rectify the problem without a knock on effect." He leaned back against what looked like the bed's headboard. "Have you got much more to do tonight?"

"About another hour's work," Louis guessed, glancing at the clock as though it would give him the answer, "give or take – it really depends on whether I've made a balls-up in one of these," he indicated the mass of scribbled sheets on his desk, "or if it really is impossible." The last syllable was punctuated by a ridiculously loud rumble of his stomach, which even Harry couldn't have missed.

"Okay, that's it. Hang on..." Harry ducked down out of view and, after a moment of muffled shuffling, reappeared with his phone in hand.

"What are you doing?" Louis asked, bemused, as Harry started some epic scrolling.

"Ordering you in some food," was his distracted reply.

Louis rolled his eyes, torn between frustration and fondness, " _Hey_!" He called out, "I am perfectly capable of doing that myself, you know."

Harry looked up and gave him a glare that was so levelling that should Louis have been standing he would have been shuffling his feet, thoroughly chastised. "Uh huh, well I'm sorry but I don't trust you on that," Harry huffed. "The last time you were working late you said you promised you would pop down to Dominos - instead, you fell asleep at your desk and ended up raiding the staffroom vending machine at four in the morning. Two Twixs, a Dairy Milk and half a packet of Space Raiders does not constitute a proper meal. At least I know that if I order you dinner you will at least get some basic nutrients. Now... how does Thai sound?"

"Yeah, okay," Louis gave in, deciding he was way too tired and hungry to put effort into acting offended over a slur to his self-sufficiency, "that actually sounds good." It actually did; Louis couldn't even remember the last time he'd had eaten Thai food, which was a crying shame – or at least from what he could remember it was a crying shame. Then again he could be getting mixed up with Korean cuisine, in which case he maybe ought to reconsider as one of them had violently disagreed with him for two days.

"Cool," Harry kept scrolling down his contacts, "my mate Nam works in a brilliant little restaurant down on Weston Street and she'll be able to deliever it straight to your building – any excuse to get away from waiting tables is good for her. Now, is there anything in particular you fancy eating?"

"Nah," Louis shook his head, not familiar enough with a Thai menu to start making requests, "order whatever you think is good."

"Alright... Er..." Harry squinted into the screen, "have you got any cash on you? Or shall I pay for it by card over the phone?"

Louis opened his desk drawer and checked his wallet, "I've got thirty quid on me. That'll be plenty, won't it?"

"More than," Harry concurred, "ok, just give me a minute."

Louis nodded and swivelled around lightly in his chair while he waited for Harry to finish ordering him a Green Thai curry with some kind of hoison duck roti thing. "So how are things your end?" He asked, once Harry had hung up. "It sounds quiet – you all done for the day?"

"Yeah," said Harry, yawning as he stretched his back and making Louis wince when several joints cracked loudly. "It's raining pretty hard so we decided to just chill tonight - save all our energy for the big night tomorrow. We'll need it by the sound of things. Greg's got a monster of a pubcrawl planned."

"Going full Irish then?" Louis surmised with a chuckle while adding painkillers to the list of things he would have to take with him. Sunday morning was not going to be fun.

"If by full Irish you mean that most of us will probably end up in the drunk tank or in a coma then you're probably right. What time are you and Zayn due in tomorrow? I was thinking we could meet up before the activity... if you're in early enough?"

"About one," said Louis after taking a moment to think about it, "so, yeah. We could meet you in the city centre for lunch. Check-in isn't until two anyway."

Harry smiled and nodded, "Sounds like a plan. Greg said the activity doesn't start until three o'clock so that'll give you a chance to get settled at the hotel and still leave plenty of time for us to find the venue."

"Sorted then," Louis yawned, suddenly feeling extremely sleepy. Harry's deep, soothing, voice had a terrible habit of doing that. "Any idea what he's got planned?"

"Nope," Harry pouted, having probably been fishing for the answer all day and gotten nowhere, "he just said we need to wear warm clothes, sensible shoes and wait for him to text us the address at two o'clock. He doesn't want anyone to spoil the surprise."

"Well it must be close to the city centre if he's only giving us an hour to get there," Louis reasoned, "and it must be outside if we have to wrap up warm. That, at least, rules out surfing lessons and wine tasting."

"Unless we have to make the wine ourselves first," Harry joked. "I could see us having to pick the grapes."

"Unlikely," Louis yawned, "don't you have to like, let it ferment or something?" As a bit of a wine connoisseur he really ought to know more about it's production.

Harry shrugged and Louis took a moment to yawn again and stand up to stretch himself. When he sat back down, Harry was staring. As though trying to shake away unwanted thoughts, Harry shook his head and clapped his hands together, "Right, so I guess I better let you go. Try not to stay too late. Yeah?"

"Yes Mum," Louis rolled his eyes. "Is that everything?"

"Yeah, I was just checking up on you," Harry teased. "Quite rightly too."

"Ha, piss off," Louis shot him two fingers. Truthfully, he was kind of touched Harry cared enough to check-in. Considering they were meant to be catching a flight together tomorrow, Zayn hadn't bothered contacting him at all today, not even to confirm times.

"Also, I wanted to confirm your flight times," Harry added, as though reading Louis' mind, "so mission accomplished."

Smiling fondly, Louis nodded at him, "Alright, appreciated. I'll see you at lunch tomorrow then."

"Yeah, good night."

"Night, mate."

Louis hung up feeling surprisingly content and, after calling the security office to alert them to the food delivery, started back on his calculations with a new vigour – determined to not stay too late as Harry had requested.

~*~

SATURDAY MORNING

Crusty eyed and tight-headed, Louis forced himself awake at half seven, cursing the fact that it was the weekend and he had to be up before his usual minimum of nine. Deciding that comfort was the order of the day, he dressed down in a pair of dark blue jeans – a Christmas present he'd never worn - his favourite white ¾ length sleeve shirt and a short military style charcoal-grey pea coat. It was a warm yet trendy outfit – perfect in case any of Harry's fans and/or paps were ready with their cameras. Ever since their appearance at the premiere together the fan and media interest seemed to have quadrupled. Harry ended up having to stop and take pictures with fans everytime he headed out somewhere and Louis had been papped three times on the street this week. No doubt there would be a few fans and paps hanging around the London and Dublin Airports – hoping to catch a glimpse of some famous faces heading to Dublin. It was no secret Niall was having his stag party today. He'd happily divulged the info to all 4 million of his listeners earlier this week. His fans also knew, thanks to his over excitement, that Barbara was having her hen-do today too. Niall had joked about accidentally crossing paths, which would be the worst of luck. Of course, Niall hadn't actually told his listeners where the stag night was taking place but seeing as he'd been pictured having lunch in Dublin yesterday and a fellow radio colleague had been later spotted at Dublin Airport, it didn't take a genius to work out where the stag party was happening.

Over a quick breakfast of tea and toast, Louis caught the morning news, groaning as he heard there may be more tube strikes in the coming weeks. He'd have to pay close attention to that so he didn't get caught out. The prospect of having to get a taxi to work filled him with dread. Going by cab was an absolute nightmare in rush hour traffic and he hated the small talk the cabbies felt compelled to indulge in. At that time of the morning he had about as much enthusiam to chat as getting a tooth extracted. Perhaps he should consider hiring a Boris Bike for the week, it was only seven miles to London Bridge... Louis snorted to himself, he had no stamina for cycling at all - he'd be dead before making it the kilometer across the river.

After washing up his bowl and plate, he headed back up the stairs to pick out his attire for the pubcrawl. He didn't want anything too bulky because he didn't plan on checking in any luggage for the flight. So he settled for a similar outfit to what he was already wearing – only he would swap the grey pea coat for his black leather 'wolverine' soul revolver jacket instead. Like jeans, Louis wasn't one for wearing leather but it had been a present from his sister, Lottie, and this was one of the few times he'd probably feel comfortable wearing it out and about. Lottie. Christ, he really ought to call her at some point... the flood of guilt pooled sourly in the pit of his stomach. It was well known to many that their relationship was strained. Not so much because of Eleanor but because of the sheer amount of dislike Louis had for her arse of a husband. At first, he thought she had been joking that Willard had asked her out. She was barely eighteen at the time and he was thirty five – almost old enough to be her dad! But then the slimeball had confirmed it – with so much smugness there might have been a bit of a physical scuffle... maybe a cut lip... and a blackeye... In all honesty, it wasn't so much the age difference Louis had an issue with but more the fact that Willard was just an absolute dick. However, Lottie would not be persuaded of this by him or anyone else for that matter. She was smitten with the guy and would not listen to reason. Louis had tried to play nice for one night but it had ended with Louis storming out of the restaurant in a fury so that he didn't punch end up punching Willard again. Of course, it hadn't escaped Louis's wonder that maybe the guy thought getting with his sister would take him a step closer to the top of the company. Louis had taken great pleasure in bursting this notion by informing him that Lottie was actually only his stepsister and no relation to Robert and therefore had no connection to the company. To both his astonishment and dismay that hadn't deterred Willard one bit and the twat proceeded to have the gall to marry Lottie when she turned twenty-one. Louis had not attended the ceremony – fortunately having had a conference in Tokyo. Admittedly it was a conference he technically could have missed if he really wanted to and it seemed as though Lottie knew this. His wedding present of a gift certificate had been returned to him, unused. Things had been pretty cold between them ever since. Of course, there was a simple solution. Louis could grow the hell up, swallow back his pride and start taking up his sister's offers of dinner. The ball was in his court and his lack of effort was really the sole reason things weren't good between them. However, there wasn't much he could do right now to change it but it was definitely something on his to-do list.

He turned his focus onto his packing; added in some toiletries to his bag along with his favourite bottle of Clive Christian – sadly nearly empty - a change of underwear, his wallet, phone, boarding pass and passport. Once it was zipped up he glanced at the clock and frowned to see it was 08:43 – time was starting to run low. Zayn had been adamant they be at the airport an hour before departure, despite having checked in online and having no baggage. It was, at least, an hour and a half train ride to Stansted Airport, not counting waiting times. Since Zayn lived in Acton and Louis in Fulham, they had decided to meet up at Victoria Station and finish the journey together. If Louis didn't catch the right train they could miss their connection.

Heading back down the stairs with his bag, Louis started to make certain all the lights, plugs and windows were off and shut. He was one of those people who would not find peace of mind until he had ensured all fire hazards and security risks were minimised before leaving over night. Sure he had alarms but he wasn't fool enough to think it would do much more than annoy his neighbours if they went off. He was more likely to get reported to police for disturbing the peace rather than because someone was concerned about his safety. That was pretty much the standard British attitude.

He returned to the kitchen and after a quick swig of mouthwash, a double check of his bag and one last run through of the house; he was ready to go. Setting the alarm with practised ease, he opened the front door and almost leapt out of his skin as he came literally face-to-face with another person. Gasping in surprise, he nearly toppled backwards over the mat in his haste to not crash into them. However, his initial surprise quickly turned from complete astonishment to absolute fury as he recognised just who was on his doorstep. High cheekbones, long, thick, brown hair, beestung lips and a figure so thin it made you feel oddly uncomfortable, Eleanor hadn't changed a bit over the years. Her face was, perhaps, a little harder - less youthfully pretty than he remembered - but she was still handsome in a way a lot of woman lost as they pushed towards thirty. It was a beauty that made his skin crawl.

"What the bloody hell are you doing here?" He snapped, his fists clenching instinctively at his sides. He didn't have time for this. "How do you even know where I live? In fact, I don't fucking care. I've got places to be."

"What is this?" Eleanor demanded, angrily thrusting a piece of paper into his face. He instantly recognised it as his decline of attendance and felt a surge of mean satisfaction. The, 'I took this invitation to be a joke so, while I've played along to a degree, you can pay for the postage and handling fee of this reply', was pretty clear, even from his awkward angle. As was the enormous cross in the 'decline' option box.

Louis shrugged, barely reigning in a haughty smile, "I didn't have a stamp. Sorry."

"Oh shut up. You know that's not what I meant," she hissed, "but congratulations on that little triumph, you've managed to reach a whole new level of petty."

"Fuck right off," Louis swore, an ugly desire to slap her crawling up his spine. He wouldn't hit her though; he wasn't that type of guy... mores the pity.

Again Eleanor ignored him, instead demanding through gritted teeth, "Why are you not coming to the wedding?"

For a moment Louis just stared at her boorishly, waiting for the punchline. After a long moment of silence, he realised, to his horror, she was actually serious. He choked on a slightly hysterical laugh, " _Uh_... why the hell would I want to go to your wedding? Wait, scratch that, why would _you_ even want me there? Considering what might come spilling out of my mouth... by pure accident of course."

"You're not an arsehole Louis," Eleanor snapped, with enough surety to get his hackles up, "you wouldn't do that, no matter how angry you are at-"

"Don't you dare stand there and tell me what I'm like!" Louis shouted. He was swelling up with so much fury and hatred he was momentarily worried he might actually do something stupid. This woman had completely ruined his life and here she was standing there, acting all superior and  preaching about what he was like. She hadn't fucking talked to him in seven years - how on earth did she know what he was like?!

Eleanor cringed as she glanced around the street, obviously looking for people baring witness to their arguement, "Fine, fine," she placated hastily, "whatever, can we at least discuss this inside?"

"Why?" Louis sneered, taking an uncharacteristic delight in seeing her squirm, "afraid somebody might overhear something embarrassing?"

"Stop being so childish," she hissed, glancing towards the Lang's frontroom window where the curtains had just twitched. Louis hoped they were jotting down every detail to share with the press. "Let's go inside and talk about this like adults."

Louis crossed his arms over his chest and sneered, "Even if I had the time to indulge you I wouldn't."

Eleanor seemed to finally clock his coat and rucksack, "You're going somewhere?"

"Yeah, the airport. It's Niall's stag do tonight." Louis didn't know why he was telling her this. Perhaps on some level it was to rub it in that when she left she had also left a lot of other great friendships behind too. "Look, you have twenty seconds to tell me exactly why you _really_ want me at your ruddy wedding or you can piss off right now."

"Ugh, fine." Eleanor stamped her heels and crossed her arms over her chest, evidently chilled by the cold morning air. Louis had no sympathy. "As you know, your sisters are going to be my bridesmaids and they'll ask a lot of questions if you're not there w-"

"My sisters are your bridesmaids?!" Louis yelped, his stomach clenching violently. The mere thought of his little sisters fawning over the woman in front of him and lamenting the fact that she wasn't marrying their brother... Bile rose in his throat. "For fuck sake," he choked out, "is there no low you won't stoop to? I thought I told you to stay the hell away from my family!"

"God..." Eleanor had the audacity to smirk and looked way too amused for Louis to handle, "I knew you didn't get home very often but I thought you'd at least know that I'm still as close to them as I ever was." She laughed a little meanly, "I see them _every other day_ , Louis. I took Dais and Pheebs out shopping only yesterday – we're tighter than when you and I were actually together. How did you not know this?"

Louis balked, "I wasted enough time dating you – I'm not going to waste anymore of my precious time pretending to be interested as to whether my family has seen you recently. And they've certainly never mentioned it. _Good god_ , what awful life lessons have you been teaching them?"

"Oh stop it," she snarled. "You have no cause to start pointing fingers. I would have done like you asked if you hadn't buggered off to London to lick your wounds. It's your fault you didn't tell them what I did because you didn't want them hurt by my 'betrayal'," she quoted obnoxiously with her fingers, "I certainly wasn't going to tell them so with no other story to go on they took your seeming indifference to the loss of our baby and your subsequent runaway at face value. Since I was practically a daughter and a sister to them, they naturally took my side in an effort to make up for your apparent abandonment. I eventually had little choice but to take on the role you left behind. If you hadn't wanted that then you should have either have had the guts to stay or you should have told them the truth. Instead, you embarrassed them by leaving me before the death certificate was even issued. You made it look like you were bailing because of the miscarriage. What else were they meant to think? By saying nothing and being the 'gallant' person you actually made things worse. They were left confused, ashamed and heartbroken. What was I supposed to do? Ignore them on the street for seemingly no reason? Yeah, that would have gone down well."

"You could have made sure _not_ to have met them on the street," Louis gritted out. "Manchester is a bloody big place."

"Has it slipped your mind that our parents are still really good friends?" Eleanor snapped, "Of course I was going to see them on a regular basis! It was bad enough that you were gone; if I had ignored them too then the strain would have torn our parents' friendship apart. I couldn't make myself mess them up any more than our break up already had - and certainly not to just please you. Like you said about your sisters, our parents shouldn't be hurt by our problems, it isn't fair on them."

"Oh please. What a load of sanctimonious bullshit," Louis snapped. "You don't care about them one bit; you just care what they think about _you_! Crikey. Do _your_ parents even know the truth? Does your fiancé?"

" _No_ and they're not going to." Eleanor ground out. "I made a mistake, a bad one sure, but I'm not going to spend the rest of my life paying for it."

"Spend the rest of your life paying for it?!" Louis all but screeched, incredulous at her nerve. "Considering what you did, you have barely received any punishment at all! In fact, it seems like you've pretty much got off Scot-free."

"Wow you're _still_ really bitter about it," she looked genuinely taken aback by this realisation. Louis couldn't understand why, was she really this stupid, this self-absorbed?

" _After what you did to me_?!" He roared, barely remembering that she didn't know he knew the full extent of her lies.

"Yeah, I get what I did wasn't nice and you had the right to be angry. But it's been seven years now, isn't it time to move on – for your family's sake, if not your own? It's not fair that they are trapped between us."

"The only reason my family still treat you like a friend is because they don't know the truth!" Louis screeched, "But I can assure you that if you force this issue of me attending your wedding then I will have no problem in correcting them!"

"I am only a foot in front of you, there's no need to shout!" Eleanor yelled.

"And there's no need for you to still be tainting my doorstep with your presence," Louis sniped back.

She rolled her eyes, "Christ, you're so immature! All I want is for you to finally let go of your grudge so that we can finally move on for our families' sakes but you just can't let it go. You never could let go of anything. No wonder I ch..." she trailed off.

Louis barely held himself back, "Go on," he hissed dangerously, "say it."

For a moment it looked like she would finally admit defeat but then she snapped, "Look, this is stupid. I just came here to see if we could be mature adults and put the past to rest. Clearly you aren't able to do that so-"

"Oh, don't you dare make me out to be immature just because I have no intention of forgiving you for..." he trailed off as he made the startling realisation. "Holy fuck..." he yelped, "that's what this is really about, isn't it?! You want my forgiveness so that you can stop being afraid of people finding out the truth and can, therefore, get married with a clear conscience. This hasn't got anything to do with our families being shunted between us – this is about you wanting to stop feeling so guilty."

For a long moment Eleanor said nothing but then her expression cracked, "Is that really so terrible?"

For a moment Louis was stunned stupid at the sheer selfishness he was being confronted with. Sure, he'd made the accusation but he had thought she would at least attempt to deny it. Perhaps he should offer her some regard for being honest? The thing was; how did he even reply? What could you possibly say in the face of ignorant self-absorbtion? 

He opened his mouth and to his surprise some words managed to tumble out, "It might not be so terrible," he said faintly, "if you had ever actually apologised to me. But you haven't, not once in seven years, so the answer is yes; it is so terrible. In fact, it's about as arrogant and self-centred as a human can sink."

"I did apologise," she ground out, "you know that."

"Screaming 'I'm sorry' as I hold up the evidence is not considered a proper apology - especially when you act sorrier about being caught than for hurting me. Do you have any idea how awful what you did really was? Have you ever stopped to consider there might be lasting damage?"

Her face paled, "There's lasting damage?" Louis stared her down, taking a sadistic enjoyment out of seeing fear grow on her face. "Seriously Louis," she hissed, stepping closer, "don't fuck with me here. Are you serious? Is there permanent damage?"

Louis let the silence grow until he was sure she was starting to sweat, "I actually don't know," he shrugged finally, "I'm too afraid to find out."

The relief in her face was instant and it wasn't long before it twisted into fury. The slapping sound that followed reverberated around the quiet street and Louis staggered back against the door, gingerly palming his burning cheek. "That was cruel," she seethed, "apologise."

" _No_." Louis' reply was half strangled with rage and incredulity. "It's the truth and I will not apologise if that upsets you or makes you feel guilty." He shook his head in utter disbelief, "Wow, you really are a piece of work. God help your husband to be. Now, kindly get the fuck off my doorstep before I lose the rag completely and return the favour," he touched his cheek to show his meaning.

They stared each other down, Louis feeling nothing but pure contempt. Then, to his absolute relief and satisfaction, she turned and strode away - heels clicking obnoxiously against the slabs. Letting out a long shaky breath, he collapsed down on the doorstep – more ashamed of himself than he'd ever been in his life.

 

 


	10. Chapter 9

Lunch time in the centre of Dublin brought out the crowds, even in late October. Still, it wasn't hard to pick Liam and Harry out of the sea of faces. Casually leaning against a signpost in the shade of some trees, the two of them were the kind of inconspicuous that, to the right person, stood out like a sore thumb. Unsurprisingly, Harry was utterly engrossed by the screen of his phone - playing Jewels 2, yet again, no doubt. The kid was seriously addicted and it got a little annoying at times. What _was_ surprising was the way Harry's sunglasses and ponytail seemed to be actually working at keeping him incognito from the passing public. Not one person glanced his way - not even a group of giggling teenagers of whom one of them was wearing a flaming t-shirt with Harry's bloody face on it! If Louis had been in a slightly better mood he would have probably have taken a photo of the irony.

Unlike Harry, Liam was alert and on the lookout. He spotted them the instant they turned the corner, beckoning them forth with, perhaps, more gusto than the moment required. Then again it had probably been July since the guy had last been let off the leash for a good piss-up so Louis couldn't really fault him for his eagerness. Anyway, the excitement was sure to change the moment Liam got a good look at his face, he was dramatic like that. Always one for getting overly worked up when there was no need to be. Bracing himself, Louis trudged forward to confront the inevitable and Liam didn't disappoint.

"Oh my god. _Louis_! What the hell happened to your face?!" he yelped, as they drew closer. He reached out to tilt Louis' head into the sunlight for a better look. Louis pulled away sharply; a, because he didn’t want the fuss and b, his face was fucking tender, okay. In the reflection of the shop window Louis caught a glimpse of Zayn shaking his head warningly - silently advising Liam to back off. Earlier, when it had been the first question his friend had asked upon meeting Louis at the station, Louis had uncharacteristically snapped at him - telling Zayn ‘it was nothing, to drop the subject and to mind his own business’. Of course he had immediately felt bad – it had just been an instinctual reaction to the cringeworthy memory of the exchange. The last thing he wanted was to start this weekend having his friends disappointed in him. To his credit, Zayn had just held up his hands in quick surrender and apologised, albeit rather sarcastically, for being concerned but hadn’t taken massive offence. In fact, he had quietly bought an ice-cold coke can for Louis to press against his burning cheek and that was that. For the first part of the journey, anyway. To either his bravado or folly, Zayn had later attempted another gentle probing as they boarded the plane, evidently thinking Louis had just needed some time to cool off. He was only marginally right. By that stage Louis had chilled enough not to snap at him but his tone had brooked no argument; he was not discussing it today, or, preferably, _ever_. He hated acting like that with his friends but he knew if he let Zayn have even a small edge then he'd grab it with both hands and prise everything out of him which would be against everything he’d been fighting for years. Don't get him wrong, Zayn was one of his best friends and a person whom he trusted beyond measure and someone whose opinion mattered a lot. But Louis wasn't sure he could handle Zayn's reaction to the sordid story of his past or of his exchange with Eleanor that morning. At least not today when everything was still raw and bound to infuse his words with bitterness and shame.

And shame was something he was feeling badly right now. He had never been that vicious to anyone before - not even towards Nick Grimshaw, and that twat had really tried his humanity at times. The words... the threats... God… what had come over him? Had he really threatened to hit her back - the thought left him cold and shaken. Never in his life had he _ever_ hit a girl. Crikey, he had never thought himself capable - not even as a threat. Of course, he probably _wouldn’t_ have gone through with it, but still... _No_ , he couldn't talk to anyone about this right now; the shame and humiliation would be too much.

"Nothing," he gritted out in reply to Liam's question, even though every inch of the perfect red handprint throbbed hotly.

Harry, with his usual bat ears for anything Louis related, had snapped his head up from his phone immediately. If it had been any other time, and Louis had been in any other mood, it might have been comical the way his eyes bugged out when he saw the mottled red finger marks.

"What the…" he frantically pushed his sunglasses up into his hair to get a better look. Almost instantly his jaw set and he started forward, slipping his mobile into his pocket, "that's not _nothing_ Lou," he gritted out. Reaching out, he firmly, yet gently, tilted Louis' face towards himself, scrutinising the inflamed skin and blood-pocked scratch mark where her nail had caught his cheek.

"I don't want to talk about it," Louis replied shortly, stepping back as Harry’s thumb started to idly caress his jawline in an angry manner. " _Seriously_ ," he warned, looking Harry right in the eye as his friend opened his mouth to make a comment. "I just had a run-in with someone whose opinion of me was wrong and they didn't appreciate being told otherwise. Maybe when I'm not so pissed off about it I'll give you the details." He was lying of course. "But for now, can you please just take me to lunch and cheer me up so I can forget this morning ever happened?” He forced his face to soften to a pleading manner, knowing it would weaken Harry’s stubbornness, “I don't want my bad mood to continue on and cast a black cloud on Niall's big night." He mentally crossed every appendage he owned that Harry would go with it. It was a fine line; on one side he had Harry’s ferocious concern and stubbornness, and, on the other, was Harry’s susceptibility to a bit of begging and an offer of compromise.

It didn’t look good, especially when Harry’s eyes narrowed but, after a long tense moment, Harry’s jaw relaxed, "Sure," he said softly, although with a note of hesitance. "Sure, we can do that.” He rolled back his shoulders as though his words had cost him a lot of energy. “Niall recommended a great pub at the top of the road for some food, so let’s head straight there." He gently tugged Louis by the elbow to get him to start walking.

"Nobody else joining us?" Zayn asked, raising an eyebrow at Liam.

"Nah," Liam, shook his head as they followed on behind their friends, "Niall and his family are having a special lunch with Barbara and her parents, the girls are off at some kind of spa thing, Sean's working till three and I haven't got the numbers of Niall's other friends and guests in order to invite them. So it's just us four for now."

"S’cool," Zayn shrugged. "we'll probably draw less attention to ourselves if there are fewer of us anyway."

Liam gave him a long, amused look, “I feel like there’s a joke there. An actor, a model, a scientist and an aristocrat walk into a bar…” He chuckled and shook his head, “The chances of not drawing attention to ourselves are so low that even a bookie wouldn’t allow odds. But… we can always live and hope I suppose.”

 

 

Murray's Pub, it turned out, was only a six minute trek up the road and pretty much the embodiment of Niall’s persona. It was easy to see why their friend liked it so much. Even from the outside it was obvious the inside would embrace every cliché in a quaint ode to jocular Irish culture. And it certainly didn't disappoint. The brown and cream decor was like a tapestry of Guinness, the walls a papered history of Ireland’s strengths and weaknesses and the lovingly polished bar boasted the sentiments of a proud nation. Louis loved it instantly. As the door closed behind them, the heat and noise enveloped them in warm hearty welcome and Louis felt his shoulders marginally relax. Despite the spacious interior, the place was jumping with life – the smell of warm delicious food evidently drawing in hoards of hungry tourists, local office workers and the usual all-day barflies. Right in the centre, upon a small stage, were two men having a bit of a sing-song to which many of the barflies were clapping along. Those customers further back, enjoying lunch, merely nodded along to the beat as they ate and chatted with friends. Louis tried not to make eye-contact with anyone lest he draw attention to themselves prematurely. As though reading his mind, a waitress flitted over and, per Liam's request, quickly directed them to a table right at the very back, out of sight. Even so, Zayn and Harry still got a few double takes as they walked by but thankfully nobody stopped them and, once seated, Harry and Liam's backs kept curious eyes at bay.   
Louis tried hard to put the morning's events to the back of his mind and lighten up but it was difficult. His head was a mess of everything Eleanor had said to him and, to his frustration, he found himself wondering if she had actually been right about him being immature. It had been seven years, should he have moved past his anger by now? Was it normal to still harbour ill feelings after so long, especially when there had been no resolution? Or was he just being petty and holding a grudge? Was he, maybe, the one that was actually in the wrong here? Did he actually owe her an apology for his behaviour this morning? And what about his family? Was he really the one at fault for their growing distance? Should he be ashamed by the state of his relationship with them? Was everything _really_ his fault? The thoughts had him fluctuating between red hot flushes of outrage and ice cold pangs of guilt. And the stomach churning idea of how much influence Eleanor might have had on his family over the years set him out in a cold sweat. God, he really hadn't known - his mum had never mentioned that she and the girls saw Eleanor all the time. Then again, when was the last time he had spoken to his mum properly...? They usually only talked on the phone a few times a year and he could count on one hand the number of times he had gone up for a visit since the twins turned two. So no, he probably hadn't given her much of an opportunity to bring the subject up. Plus, after their first terrible argument when she'd tried to get him to talk about why he had left, his mum had been wary at ever mentioning Eleanor’s name again. And truth be told, it had made for some very tense conversations - which were part of the reason he'd slowly pulled away over the years. It was hard to enjoy a person's conversation when both people were silently disappointed in each other for all the wrong reasons. And that, there, was the crux of the problem he had with his family; the niggling hurt that they hadn't naturally taken his side. No, it was more than that, it was the hurt that they didn't know him well enough to realise that something didn't add up and/or that they didn't know him well enough to ‘just know’ that he must have had a damned good reason for leaving like he did.  
But... realistically speaking... he hadn't left them much choice. Eleanor had been right, the fact he was so distant from his family was mostly his own fault. It had been _his_ decision not to tell them the truth and it was only to be expected that they would have jumped to the conclusions giving what was presented. If he wanted things to get better then he either had to try and make amends for the things he hadn't done or he had to tell them the truth. The ball was well and truly in his court.   
As he agonised over the choice, he couldn't help but feel a growing resentment over the fact that he was the one in the position of having to mend bridges and not Eleanor. Seriously, why was he paying for her mistakes? He was the one who got hurt, he was the one who got played the fool, he was the victim and yet he was the one who came out like the bad guy? And the more he thought about that the angrier he got until he was pretty much stewing in fury as he ate, biting into his sandwich quite viciously.  
It didn't help his discontented temper that Harry kept shooting him concerned glances across the table. Louis had to sternly remind himself every few seconds that it was nice his friend was worried and that he should appreciate having friends who truly cared. The reminder became an internal mantra; that _the frustration he felt was at his ex and shouldn't be taken out on his friends_. It didn’t make him feel much calmer though, so he decided it would be best if he just kept quiet. Instead, he focused on the gourmet lime and chicken monster of a sandwich he'd ordered, which was absolutely delicious. Someone was getting a massive tip before they left.

 

 

Around two o’clock, with their appetites thoroughly sated, the four of them headed back the way they'd come, aiming for the hotel so Louis and Zayn could check-in and dump their bags. As promised, Greg had sent out a mass text message informing everyone of the venue's address – which turned out to be some park just outside the city centre. Liam had immediately checked with Google Maps and had found, while it offered no clues to the day’s events, it was only a ten minute taxi ride away. That gave them about forty minutes to settle into their rooms and chill.   
As they stepped inside, Louis gave the lobby a cursory glance. Zayn had been the one to pick it and had just texted everyone the number to book a room. While he hadn’t expected his friend to pick a flea-ridden shit-house, the hotel was a lot nicer than Louis was expecting for a one-night stag sleepover. If the service and facilities ended up matching the decor then he might consider coming back for a long weekend. The marble effect around the reception certainly gave an illusion of grandeur as did the gold gilding and polished leather seating. The stunning chandelier raining crystals down from the high ceiling looked like it would be devilish fun to swing from – and that wasn't just a random thought, he actually had quite a lot of experience in that area. When he was a child he had loved secretly swinging from the chandelier in his grandparent's living room until, one day, aged seven, he had lost his grip and had fallen two and a half metres to the floor. On his descent he had caught his hand on the coffee table, breaking three bones which required six weeks in a bright red cast and some rather painful physiotherapy. He still maintained to his Grandfather, this very day, that he'd tripped over the rug, which spared him the shame of admitting he had endangered such a precious and expensive family heirloom.  
Tearing his eyes away from the ceiling, and his memories, he smiled weakly at the receptionist who was awaiting his approach.  
”Good afternoon,” he said, shuffling forward with his bag, “I have a room booked under Tomlinson…”   
As the woman checked him in, he absently glanced around the lobby again and clocked his three friends huddled together by the stairs. They were just out of earshot but he could tell by their overly covert behaviour that they were talking about him. He sighed inwardly - realising he'd been stupid to think they would let him away with not talking about it. That had never been their style. He leant forward to sign the form the woman was holding out before glancing back again at his friends. They were definitely hatching something by the tense gesturing of their hands between them. The question was, what would their ultimate game plan be; interrogate him individually or as a group? Neither prospect was exactly thrilling and both would probably be as painful as the other. He watched them for a few long moments as they conversed in quiet murmurs. Then Liam pointed purposefully at Harry and Zayn reached round to pat the actor's back in an encouraging fashion. _Oh fucking great_ , they were siccing Harry on him. _Marvellous. Fantastic. Bloody Brilliant._ Louis was fucking doomed. He had never been able to lie directly to Harry’s face. The bugger could always tell when he wasn't being honest and the sod had the patience and tolerance of a saint when it came to extracting information. Once he was on a mission, no matter what Louis threw at him Harry wouldn't give in until he got the truth. Sure, he could be put off for a short while with a little bit of playing on the old conscience but, ultimately, he wouldn't be deterred for long. _Bollocks_.  
On the other hand, Louis supposed he had to give credit to Liam and Zayn on their choice of tactics – they obviously knew where their strengths and weaknesses lay. Harry was their biggest strength as Louis had always been able to fool Zayn with some partial truths and he knew Liam easily lost patience when faced with resistance. Harry, though, was too much of a gentle soul to let dirty tactics push him off course.

Louis had to think and think _fast_. When would Harry likely launch his attack? Considering the time constraints they all had at the moment, it would probably be soon. Would he wait, though, until after the weekend and give Louis the reprieve he asked for earlier? Louis hoped so as he really didn't want to be moody tonight and bring down the vibe of the stag do - that wasn't fair on Niall, or anyone else for that matter. Surely Harry would take that into account and leave the interrogation until at least tomorrow morning or, if he really couldn't delay, wait until Louis was too drunk tonight to care what came spilling out of his mouth.

No such luck. As they disembarked the lift on the fifth floor and headed for their respective rooms, Harry determinedly followed Louis down the hallway to his room. Resigned to the fact that Harry would be on his case for the rest of the night unless he nipped it in the bud right now, Louis let him tag along without complaint. However, the moment the door closed behind them and he could see Harry's mouth start to open, Louis held up a hand and pleaded, "Please don't, not right _now_. I'm finally calm enough to function socially and would like to remain so for the rest of the day. I really don't want to dampen anyone's mood, especially Niall's, and I can only manage that if I remain calm. So please, don't ask just yet. Wait till the morning, okay?"

Harry smiled softly and stepped forward, ducking a little to look Louis right in the eye. "Do you know you raise your eyebrows when you're trying to convince someone of something that isn't quite the truth? It's a terrible give-away." He prodded his finger at said eyebrows and then pulled back, crossing his arms over his chest with vague amusement.

Louis paused in surprise. Very slowly he relaxed his face and found that, indeed, his eyebrows had been raised higher than normal. Blimey, he knew he ought to have taken Harry up on that acting seminar a few years back. At least then he might’ve had a fighting chance.

Before he could make a comment, though, his phone started to buzz loudly in his trouser pocket. _Thank fuck_. What epic timing. Harry nodded for him to go ahead and check it and Louis scrambled to get it out. For all they knew it could be one of the lads with some last minute information on the venue. Louis swiped the screen to unlock it and at once something cold and leaden sank into his stomach.  **Message from: Mum.** He hadn't had a text message from her in months - so why today? Why right _now_? A sense of foreboding turned his stomach. Hesitantly, he opened the text and at once felt bile rise in his throat. Hot

_I am so disappointed in u_

His hands began to tremble as he realised just what Eleanor had gone and done. He scrolled down further, heart in his throat.

_U WILL join me & _ _ur_ _sisters @ El's wedding. No arguments. I'm mortified by how upset El is over_ _ur_ _refusal. Ur poor choices stop right here, young man. If this is what El needs to forgive u and move on then u owe it 2 her 2 show up. Do not embarrass me any further._

White hot rage, like he'd never felt before, surged through him and he snarled as he flung the mobile across the room. There was a loud crunch of glass as it bounced violently into the skirting board and thumped to the floor. "That fucking _bitch_ ," he swore viciously, "that _fucking bitch_!"   
Clearly, after their exchange of words, Eleanor had gone straight back up north to his own mother and... and... Another wave of rage hit him and the next thing he heard was the clatter of china as his arm swept the complimentary tea tray to the carpet. "How dare she! How dare they both... grrh!" He made a grab for the hotel phone that had been knocked off it's cradle. Punching in the well reversed number, he seething as each ring went unanswered until, "Hello?" His mum's voice was politely curious and unaffected. Having lost control and acting on pure instinct, Louis blew his top.

"I don't know where you get off talking to me like that but if you think I'm going to that bloody wedding then you've got another think coming! You have no idea, no FUCKING idea what she did to me. But what else should I expect?! You have never been on my side for anything, not even when I was a little kid! You've always written me off as a being more trouble than I was worth, ever since you fucked me over with St James! So I shouldn't be surprised you'd automatically side with Eleanor instead of me. Most mothers know their sons well enough that even if they can't tell them the truth they still know them well enough to make the right judgement based on their character. Hoping you know me well enough to realise something isn't right with the picture you're being sold is totally in vain, isn't it?! Even after all this time you still don't know me at all. What is wrong with you?! Did all seven of my other, more important, siblings sap the maternal-"   
The phone was suddenly snatched out of his hand and he was being forcibly pushed sideways. Behind him, there was a loud click as Harry hung up the phone. Barely maintaining his balance, Louis spun around to face his friend angrily, ready for a fight.   
Harry got to him first, though, swearing blue under his breath as he pushed Louis backwards until he was sat down on the bed. "Calm down. You need to calm the fuck down."   
Louis didn't want to calm down though. He had every bloody right to scream and shout about the unfairness of it all and he was going to finally bloody do it! "I knew something was seriously wrong," Harry bemoaned, as he fought to keep Louis seated, "I should have stuck with my instincts and not let you brush me off earlier. Come on, take a deep breath. This is what happens when you bottle things up. Breath Lou." But Louis suddenly found he couldn't. He was seething too hard to suck in air and his face was burning hotter and hotter. He tried breathing out but nothing happened. He tried again but his face felt like it was swelling up to the point of bursting. He was so hot. So so hot. Panicked, he reached out to grab Harry's sleeve, hoping he would notice he was suffocating.

"Shit, shit, shit," he heard Harry swear, indticating he had realised Louis was in trouble and suddenly Louis found himself on his feet being half pushed/half carried towards the balcony doors. Harry swore even more as he struggled to unfasten the lock. Louis feebily tried to help but Harry just brushed his hands away.

Growing dizzy, Louis mouthed silently at the air - feeling like he was trapped under water, starving for breath, but he would be okay if he could just get outside into the fresh cool air. Finally Harry got the lock undone and the doors flew open. Louis tripped out into the cold afternoon air with Harry holding him up from behind, commanding him to breathe. Disorientated and feeling like he'd just broke the surface after a deep dive, Louis gulped greedily at the cold breeze. Slowly, ever so slowly, some of the heat and fury fizzled out but the moment he thought about his mother's text message, it all started to return, hotter than ever until he was fluctating between calm and fury with every breath.

Harry could obviously tell he was fighting a losing battle as he gripped him even tighter around the waist and instructed, "Take a deep breath and hold it..." Louis did so shakily, "that's it, keep holding it... keep holding it and... let it go." He waited until Louis had finished blowing out before urging, "And again, deep breath in... hold... hold... hold and let it out," then, "one more time. In, hold, hold, hold... and let it out."

As Louis blew out long and slow for the third time he felt the angry ball of heat melt away and he slumped back against Harry's chest with exhaustion.

"Better?" Harry asked softly, stroking his temple soothingly.

"Yeah," Louis mumbled, "yeah, thanks." He closed his eyes and allowed himself to take stock of what had just happened. Now that the rage had dissipated, he could feel the tears of hurt and betrayal begin to prickle. His own mother had been turned against him. She either didn't know Louis well enough to know something wasn't right with what she was being told or, worse, she actually thought, without hesitation, that Louis was everything Eleanor had her believe. Unless he gave in and told her the truth, his mum would always be on Eleanor's side from now on - would always think the worst of him. And that hurt. That hurt _so_ much. His lower lip trembled and he bit down on it.

"I think," said Harry gently in his ear, "this has been brewing for a long time, hasn't it?" Louis hadn't the energy to argue. He just nodded and Harry sighed knowingly, his breath tickling Louis's cheek. "I thought so. Judging by what you just yelled at your mother, I'm guessing there's something pretty important you've been keeping to yourself for about seven years now - something about what happened between you and Eleanor. I don't know the reason you couldn't talk about it before but I think, for everyone's sake, you ought to let it out now before it consumes you. If it causes you to blow up like _that_ at your mother then it's really not something you should keep secret for another seven years. It could end up destroying you and your relationship with your family. Maybe this is a sign that whatever swayed your decision to keep quiet back then is no longer the best option for everyone involved now."

Louis looked down at the tiles. Now that he was calm he was starting to feel the onslaught of guilt at the way he'd just spoken to his mum. Yes, there were threads of truth in the bile he'd just thrown at her but there were some things in life that shouldn't be voiced - no matter how angry you are the person. Harry was right, this wasn't healthy for anyone involved and was possibly making everything worse in the long run. Maybe _it was_ time to talk about it to someone else... perhaps Harry could even make a case for coming clean to his family. At the very least by telling Harry there would be at least one more person who will have heard his side of the story – the real version of events with Eleanor. That would bring the grand total to three.

As though sensing his concession, Harry nudged Louis's hip. "Come on," he said gently, "let's go back inside."

Louis nodded, liking the idea of having a sit-down and allowed Harry guide him back indoors - to the armchairs situated just inside the threshold. He sank down on to the closest one, feeling utterly spent. To his relief, rather than shutting them, Harry kept one of the doors open to allow a small cold breeze to blow in Louis's direction. It helped him stay grounded; it helped him stay on the edge.

"Wow..." Harry croaked, after picking up the smashed phone, squinting at the screen for a moment and wincing, "I'm guessing that slap mark wasn't from a stranger, was it?" He walked back over, took a seat opposite Louis, so they were face to face, and held up the phone. Louis's mum's text message was still illuminated under a spiderweb of cracks.

Louis looked away, "I wish you hadn't read that."

"Oh," Louis heard the wince in Harry's voice as he took his meaning the wrong way, "yeah... sorry... _sorry_ , I can't believe I just did that. Don't know what I was thinking - I guess it was just instinct after hearing the phonecall - figured on some level it was just a kind of reiteration of what I'd heard."

"No, no it's fine," Louis cut in quickly, looking up, "I don't mind you reading my texts... it's not that - _honestly_. It's just... I kind of wish you didn't see exactly how bad things are between mum and me. I mean, it's one thing to know we're having difficulties getting on and a completely different thing to _know_ that she thinks of me like _that_." He swallowed hard and watched with trepidation as his friend carefully put the phone down on the coffee table. "I..." He trailed off.

"You?" Harry prodded gently.

"I..." he fidgeted with the cuff of his shirt, feeling a blush rise up his still-warm cheeks, "I don't want you to ever think of me like that - not even for a second." The words left him feeling naked and vulnerable.

"It would take an awful lot more than a few angry words said in the heat of the moment to make me revise everything I feel about you," Harry chuckled. "You're human - you make mistakes, you get angry and you say stuff that you don't really mean when you're hurt. Everyone does, it's natural. Hell, you should have heard the stuff that came out my mouth when I fell out with Gemma a few years ago."

"You fell out with Gemma?" Louis blinked in surprise - the two siblings were so close that he could barely even picture it happening. Sure they liked to tease each other but to actually fall-out or even raise their voices at each other...? No, he couldn't envision it at all.

Harry blushed, "Yeah, I uh... I never told you about that did I. Oops. It doesn't matter anyway - we made up after... like... about a week. It's not like it's the first time we've had a fight nor will it be the last. We're siblings - falling-out happens from time to time because we love each other. Love, no matter what kind, is a comprehesive package of emotions. With all the positive feelings come the negative - like over-protectiveness, jealousy, vulnerability and the potential to hurt and be hurt in return. You just need to learn how to deal and move on when these things happen. Anyway, quit changing the subject - we're talking about _you_ here."

"Yeah, okay..." Louis looked down at his lap and took in a deep breath, "honestly, I don't even know where to start..."

Harry pursed his lips, "Okay, let me see if I can make it easier. How about I tell you what I'm thinking and you either correct me or fill in the blank spaces?"

"Okay, yeah," Louis nodded gratefully, "that's sounds good."

"Alright," Harry nodded back, a small encouraging smile tugging at his lips, "So... it doesn't really take a genius to work out from this message and what you were yelling at your mother, this has something to do with your break up with Eleanor." Louis nodded stiffly. "Okay," Harry rolled his lips before his expression turned a little sheepish, "I uh... I guess I should probably take this opportunity to admit I've always figured there was more to the story than just the 'drifting apart' you tried to sell us. It didn't make sense at the time and it makes even less sense now. This whole... episode... thingy... kinda just cemented it in my head - as you wouldn't still be so angry and affected if that was the whole story."

Louis swallowed hard but didn't say anything - figuring his silence would be confirmation enough. It was; Harry gave another brief nod and steepled his fingers under his chin, looking at him thoughtfully. "Okay, so from what I remember, the story you gave us was; you were drifting apart long before the...uh..." he dropped his voice, obviously not wanting to upset Louis further by being insensitively indelicate, " _baby_ and were about to call it quits when Eleanor fell pregnant. For the baby's sake you tried to make it work but after the... um... the... _miscarriage_... you, uh, decided it was best to end things straight away. And it was straight away, wasn't it? I think you moved to Zayn's about three days after she left the hospital? Wait, wait," Harry held his hand up as Louis opened his mouth to make a defensive comment, "I'm not criticising you. I'm just stating what I've seen and heard." He swallowed thickly and leaned in closer, "look, I'd like to think I know you well, Louis. I'd like to think I know you _very well_ and I have always thought you leaving so quickly after the fact was really out of character. Even if you were on the verge of a break up I never believed you would be the kind of guy to just walk away from a girlfriend, of several years, just moments after she's just suffered a miscarriage - at least not without a damn good reason. You're a decent bloke - the type of guy who, even if he was desperate to get away, would, at least, stay for a while and console her until everything was over, even if you were still planning on breaking up in the near future. Therefore, like everyone else, I was shocked when you up and walked straight away. I was really, _really_ shocked and, at the time, I admit, for a moment a little disappointed. You didn't even stay long enough to hear the autopsy results. But then I visited you at Zayn's and you were in a right state and you just wouldn't talk about it. You were upset, yes, and angry but not in the way one would expect. I knew then that you weren't telling us the full story. There were other issues involved. Big issues and ones that for some reason you couldn't talk about - at least not right then and there."

Louis stared at him, wondering, with no little amount of unease, that if what Harry was saying was true then why was he only bringing it up now? He couldn't put his finger on why it made him feel uneasy but it wasn't a pleasant sensation. "Really? That's what you thought?"

"Yeah," Harry nodded, frowning as he evidently caught the slight disbelieving note in Louis's voice.

Louis stared at him and for the first time in his life he got the feeling Harry was actually lying to his face in an effort to pander to the moment - and that... _that_ , he realised, was why he felt uneasy. Harry was usually an 'I'll say it straight-up or not say anything at all' kind of guy. Mind-games were something Louis really didn't like and he wasn't sure he could tolerate them from Harry - not right now in this context. "Well," he swallowed hard over the lump in his throat, "as you never asked what my reasons were to keep quiet I assume you drew your own conclusions. Care to share?" It was more a dare than a request. Harry couldn't possibly know the whole truth so what the hell had he come to conclude were Louis's 'big issues'? He had a sinking feeling he wasn't going to like the answer - a feeling which grew stronger the longer Harry hesitated. Finally Harry opened his mouth and then immediately winced as though every possible potential phrasing of his reply was going to sound terrible. It wasn't long before Louis came to the heart-breaking realisation. "Oh my god," he whispered, feeling tears of devastation prickling at his eyes, "you thought I felt _guilty_."

Harry said nothing but the culpability in his expression confirmed it true. Louis couldn't believe it; Harry had thought he had felt guilty over the miscarriage. _Holy fuck_. He hadn't banked on that. He had thought Harry, of all people, would be one of the ones who would have an inkling of the truth but no... his conclusions were as bad as everyone else’s - _worse_ even. Tears at the injustice of it all bubbled up to the point everything was blurred. The one person who he thought would just naturally understand, without needing to be told the details, that he was the real victim here, really didn't understand at all. Harry had genuinely thought Louis was at fault _all_ this time, even if he hadn't held it against him. "Wow," Louis croaked and then choked out a hollow laugh that had the tears spilling over, "I really can't be that bad an actor if that's the best you could come up with for an explanation."

Harry tensed up, eyes widening in growing horror as he realised he had made a massive error. Like Louis's had, Harry's eyes began to well up as he whispered, "Oh god, why do I now get the feeling that I have missed something fundamentally important here? _Shit, shit, shit_. I've really cocked-up, haven't I? Fuck, I'm so sorry, Lou. Really... I'm _so_ sorry. I can't believe this..." Harry looked so gutted at the thought he’d made a wrong assumption at Louis' expense that Louis couldn't help but instantly forgive him.

"It's okay," he sighed, and he was glad that he genuinely meant it, "it’s really not your fault.  I went out of my way to hide it and you're only human. The fact you didn't see it does not make you any less of a brilliant friend. In fact, I guess it makes you a pretty damn great one that you thought what you did and still stood by me. If I had been in your place then I probably would have drawn the same conclusion too but probably wouldn’t have been so understanding."

“It’s just… you seemed so touchy about the subject - about anything to do with your relationship with her, like you couldn't bear to think about it in anyway," Harry tied to explain, his voice shaky. "The only reason I could think to explain it was that you felt, in some bizarre way, that the miscarriage had happened because you had been about to break things off with Eleanor when it happened. That perhaps you thought it was some kind of punishment for initially resenting it for making you feel trapped into staying together – which it wasn't by the way, a punishment I mean. In case you did – or still do - feel that in any way."

Louis swallowed hard, "Truth be told,” he admitted, “for a short while I did feel that particular guilt… right up until the preliminary results of the autopsy."

"Preliminary...?" Harry trailed off, confused shock clear on his face.

"Shit," Louis groaned as he realised his mistake. Sinking back in the chair, he closed his eyes as he resigned himself to the fact he had now had no choice but to spill all. "Okay, okay, okay," he licked his lips as his stomach rolled uncomfortably. "What I am about to tell you must never leave this room." He opened his eyes and stared at Harry as hard as he could. He needed Harry to take this seriously. "I mean it. You cannot tell anyone, not even the other lads. This is very important. You have to promise me that."

"Yeah, of course," Harry nodded eagerly, "I promise." He inched closer on his seat.

"No Harry," Louis shook his head, sinking back even further, not liking the absence of solemnity in the promise. "I need you to _really_ promise. This is me being deadly serious here. If any of this gets out then our friendship could be in serious trouble - possibly irreparable trouble."

To his credit, Harry managed to not look too taken aback, "Okay Lou," he nodded, "I get it. I promise I won't tell anyone else. Although, I would have hoped we were close enough for you not to have dismissed the first time I said it."

Louis winced, that was a fair comment, "Sorry, I didn't mean to imply that I doubt you but this is... this is really personal. I've only told two people and only because Cole found out - after the fact I must add - and I had to tell my Grandfather because he and the business may have been affected by its aftermath."

"Cole’s known the truth all this time?" Harry asked; looking hurt at the idea Louis had felt he couldn't confide in him too.

"Yeah, but I promise I will explain why I never told anyone else - why I never told you."

"Okay," Harry shuffled forward on the chair and Louis could physically see him swallow down his initial hurt, "I'm listening."

Louis took a deep breath, "Right... okay..." He buoyed himself up and told himself he had to do this like pulling a plaster; fast and without too much thought. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "So... I guess I should start by telling you that Eleanor cheated on me." Louis didn't have to reopen his eyes to know that Harry’s jaw had dropped.

"Are-are you sure?" he stuttered, obviously trying not to sound more shocked than disbelieving and failing miserably.

Louis tried hard not to grimace. Like most people, Harry probably couldn't imagine goody-two shoes Eleanor ever doing something so crass. To the general public she was a sweet, loyal and proper young lady – not the kind of person who would betray a partner in the worst way possible. For a long time even Louis had been fooled by the lovely facade. It’s probably what made him extra bitter about it all. "Oh yeah. I am certain," he grunted out, shooting Harry a small wry smile, "I have enough evidence to convince even the toughest of juries."

"Shiiiiiiiiiit, okay," Harry let out on a long breath, his eyes were almost comically wide, "wow... that's... that's _awful_ , I'm so sorry." The moment he said it, Harry looked ready to kick himself for such a lame reply. "God Louis, I'm so sorry," he repeated again, none-the-less. His expression then grew wobbly and Louis was sure he was only just holding himself back from hugging the life out of him. He was glad Harry restrained himself, Louis wasn't sure he'd stay in one piece if jostled right now.

"Not _you_ who should be sorry," he shrugged, because it was true, "unfortunately, the one who should be sorry is only sorry about being caught."

"Wow," Harry said again, this time with an edge of bite. He seemed unable to settle on a reaction and Louis couldn't blame him. "How on earth are you saying this so calmly?" he eventually breathed out, looking at Louis with wide-eyed bewilderment and… was that vague amusement? "I mean, a few minutes ago you were throwing crockery around." The teasing upturn of Harry's lips at the end did not escape Louis' notice and he was suddenly exceeding glad it was Harry he was talking to about this. Harry knew how to balance humour and seriousness very well and Louis was going to need that if he was going to lay his pride down like a doormat.

He shrugged in reply, "It happened seven years ago. While the cheating plays a big part, it's not really what I'm most angry about."

"Okay then," said Harry slowly. The teasing was gone in an instant and he was serious once more, sitting forward ready to listen hard and carefully, "So... um... sticking with the cheating for now, when did it happen? And do you know why she did it? Why she would hurt you like that? Was it, like, a drunken mistake? Because, mate, I'm really struggling to wrap my head around that one. You guys seemed so..."

"Close? Yeah," Louis sighed, sitting back, "I can understand your disbelief all too well. I was the exact same at the time. I couldn’t compute that behaviour with the girlfriend I thought I knew. As for her reasoning; according to her the initial reason was because she was supposedly rebelling against the idyllic future her parents wanted her to have."

"Idyllic..." Harry trailed off, Louis could almost see the cogs turning in his head and had to smile affectionately. Harry was too nice to ever consider someone's wealth and background as important, "Do you mean your title and money?" He asked slowly.

"Yep," said Louis, "and the fact that our mums were best friends at school, as were our grandparents, and _wouldn't it be perfect if we were all finally family_?" He made a face at the quote. "Her parents were dead set on her marrying me and she couldn't hack the pressure any longer. That was her excuse for cheating.” Louis chuckled as he saw Harry's expression was hilariously close to constipated.

"It's like... so... so…" Harry struggled for a word, " _unbelievable_...” he settled on. “I mean, Eleanor of all people. I just can't wrap my head around her cheating let alone those being her reasons. It's almost like the antithesis of everything I thought I knew about her. Is that why you were 'drifting apart'? Had you found out about the cheating before the pregnancy?"

"Yes and no." Louis sighed, a little disappointed that Harry still hadn't yet worked out that the 'drifting apart' had been part of the lie. It looked like he was going to have to spell it out word for word. He said as much. "Look this is going to take a lot of explaining."

Harry checked his watch; they had twenty five minutes before they were meant to call for a taxi. Sod that; the activity didn't matter that much. _This_ was way more important and Louis should have as much time as he needed to get it all out. If they were late for whatever the first event was, or even missed it altogether, so be it. Niall would understand. The main part of the party wasn’t until later anyway. So he offered to make them some tea.

Louis pointedly looked over at where the refreshment tray lay scattered across the floor, "Um..."

Chuckling, Harry got to his feet, "Yeah, I may need to order it from downstairs. Hang on – let me see what I can salvage."

It turned out that little was broken and Harry quickly returned everything to the top of the unit before filling up the kettle. While it was reaching the boil, Louis took the opportunity to attempt to figure out what exactly he was going to say. There was a lot to tell and for the sake of his ego, he really ought to stray away from embellishing certain parts. Unfortunately, before he was ready Harry was handing him a steaming mug of tea with a quiet, "Careful, it's hot."

Louis rested it on his thigh and grimaced down into the dark liquid, "No milk?"

Harry shook his head apologetically, "It was the sole casualty." Louis flushed and nodded; what could he say? Technically it was his fault.

As Harry re-seated himself in the opposite chair, Louis shot him a tentative smile, "So... where would you like me to start?"

"The beginning," said Harry decisively, "right where it started to go wrong."

Sighing again, Louis absently ran a finger around the rim of the cup, "I guess it started with me going on that two month research project to Germany. It was towards the end of it that Eleanor found out she was pregnant... I don't know how much of the story you know or remember but she collapsed while out shopping with my mum and my sisters. They took her to the local hospital and the first thing the doctors did was to give her a pregnancy test. As I still had two weeks left of the project to go before I could return home, I had to hear everything second hand, which felt a bit like Chinese whispers. At first I couldn't believe it. How could El be pregnant?

We didn't really have sex all that often because I’m allergic to most condoms, which makes things really uncomfortable afterwards, and Eleanor had yet to find a pill that didn’t make her ill. Therefore sex was usually saved for special occasions and, okay, it was a special occasion that I was leaving for two months but we were really careful that night. I even wore a rubber, which gave me the worst rash for two days – so I know I was safe that night.” He saw Harry wince and quickly apologised, “Sorry for the over-share but it’s quite an important point to the story.”

“It’s okay,” Harry quickly reassured, “we’ve talked about worse things before. In fact, sometimes I think we have too much of an intimate knowledge of each other’s bowel movements to be entirely healthy. I was more wincing in sympathy over the rash to be honest.”

“It’s not much fun, I can assure you,” Louis admitted, feeling his neck grow hot, “but that’s life I suppose. Anyway… we had taken all the precautions we could that night so I couldn’t understand how a pregnancy was possible. I, of course, posed that question to El - wondering if I had missed the condom bursting or something. She just shrugged and said condoms and morning after pills weren’t completely foolproof and we were just one of the unlucky 2% of which they failed.” He sighed bitterly, “and, like the naïve idiot I was, I believed her.”

“You weren’t an idiot,” Harry replied quietly, “you just trusted her, as most boyfriends in your position would have.”

“Hmm…” Louis wasn’t convinced, “maybe. But anyway… the fact was she was pregnant.” He looked back down at the table. “I, admittedly, wasn't exactly enthusiastic about it – at least not at first. I think you may have realised that at the time.” Harry gave a short nod but Louis wanted him to be sure of why and not making any more well-meaning but wrong assumptions. “I was in the middle of working for my masters and I was nowhere near ready to be a father. Firstly, I didn’t think I was mature enough to raise a kid at that point – I mean, I could barely look after myself. I also didn’t think I was financially stable either. Then there was the fact that having a kid so young would not only mess up all my PhD plans and the freedom to study abroad but it would also tie my social life down to the home for the next 18 years. At 22 that sounded a lot like a prison sentence – as utterly selfish as that sounds.”

Harry reached over and squeezed his hand, “It’s ok Lou, I get it. I’m not going to judge you. I’m not one of those people who thinks a baby should be good news no matter the circumstances – that’s not how life works. A child should be brought into this world wanted and in a home where they can thrive but even the people with the best hearts can’t always provide that. In my opinion, sometimes bringing a child into the world is not in the parent’s and, ultimately, the child’s best interest. What matters is that you commit yourself to whatever choice you think works for all involved – even if it’s a choice the rest of the world judges you badly for.”

“I get what you’re saying,” Louis sighed, rubbing his face, “and thanks but I didn’t really have much of a choice in the matter. When everyone else around you is incredibly excited the pressure to share that excitement is so high and… I didn't want to become the ultimate bad guy... the arsehole… the deadbeat dad… so… I put on a happy face, which was easy over the phone. I figured I just needed time to get used to the idea and then I’d be fine. I _had_ to be fine. Plus, it wasn’t like I hadn’t wanted children eventually – it was just a little earlier than expected. Still, I wasn’t in that place yet and I dreaded going home because I knew it would be much harder to pretend to everyone's face.” He sighed deeply again and ran his finger once more around the rim of his cup. “Then, two days before I came home, El sent me a pic of her first ultrasound and... and I reluctantly fell in love with… _the little thing_."   

"Yeah I remember," said Harry hoarsely and coughed to clear his throat. "You rang me up in the middle of a rehearsal, all excited, loud and babbling. Virtually the whole auditorium could hear you through my microphone and I had most of the ensemble cooing over my shoulder. Stevenson wasn’t too impressed at the interruption though but he’s the type who would tell his own child off for being born in the middle of a rehearsal."

Louis bit his lip and nodded shortly, his chest tightening up. He remembered the call well. It still hurt to think about; the reality of that moment now so false and whatever loveliness it once had was forever poisoned. "I really wanted the baby from then on," he whispered, mostly to himself. "I really did."

“I know,” Harry reached out and squeezed Louis's thigh, his eyes bleeding sympathy. His friend knew the tragic turn the story was about to take and, no doubt, realised, in a new light, just how extra hard it must have been for Louis to deal with - given his initial feelings on the situation.

Louis cleared his throat, his voice having grown croaky, "When I got home the first thing I noticed was the weird vibe that surrounded the flat. At first I thought it was just me and my reservations over becoming a father projecting things in a new light. However, after a few days it didn't really explain what I was actually experiencing. I had only been away for two months yet the flat felt cold and foreign to me – like I was visiting a relatives' house or something. I even wondered if it was some kind of detachment disorder from having been away so I went and visited me mum - thinking if it felt weird being at home with her then the weirdness was all in my head. Unfortunately, it felt exactly the same as it always had in her house so… in the end I had to accept that the weird vibe was coming from El. I only felt it around her. Again, I tried to put it down to the pregnancy - hormones and everything - but... I don't know... it seemed to be _more_ than that. It was hard to put my finger on it but… she seemed uneasy with my presence. No...” he shook his head quickly, knowing that wasn’t entirely correct, he had to do better, “uneasy isn't the right word – more like... _edgy_? I dunno if that’s right either… it was like she was trying too hard to please me and being uber-positive about the situation to the point it felt fake."

"Did you try talking to her about it?" Harry suggested quietly. "She might have picked up on your apprehension over becoming a father."

"I did talk to her… _unfortunately_ ," Louis groaned, putting his head back in his hands as he remembered that cringe-worthy scene all too well, "and she tore me a new one. Said, she was just trying to be nice because she knew her getting pregnant had upset all our plans for the future." He chuckled ruefully, "Christ, she had the gall to make me feel this small for making an issue of it," he indicated the tiniest of gaps with his fingers.

"Ouch," Harry sympathised, sipping at his tea.

Louis nodded and sank back in the chair, wondering when he’d gotten to the edge of it. "I apologised, of course, and we uh… _celebrated_ the pregnancy,” he used quote marks to emphasise that by celebrate he meant ‘had sex’, mindful of Harry’s feelings. “We didn’t bother with protection that time because it wasn’t like I could get her pregnant again and it hadn’t exactly worked before anyway. Plus, we wanted to reconnect since we were about to have a family and things felt off between us. God… in hindsight I was so naïve and stupid… if I could go back… but, anyway, after that, things settled down and everything was fine for a few weeks."

Harry's eyes softened and he tightened his grip on Louis' thigh, "Until the baby...?" he prompted knowingly in a gentle voice - giving Louis an out to actually voicing the tragedy.

"Actually no," said Louis, much to Harry's apparent surprise. _In for penny and all that_ , he thought wildly, "that wasn't what happened next. Sorry to over-share again but what followed was that I got a UTI. Or, at least, I thought it was a UTI. Turned out it was actually Chlamydia."

Harry blinked and then... blinked again.

"Yeah I know," Louis grunted, feeling his cheeks heat up. "I thought there had been a mistake too but no; two tests confirmed it."

"Shit," Harry whispered, clearly stunned, "did... did you have any idea where you might have caught..." he trailed off under Louis pointed look. "Oh. _Oh shit._ " His eyes widened even further in disbelief, "Are you _sure_?"

"Where else would I have caught it?!" Louis snapped. "I have never cheated in my life and I never would! Naturally, I confronted her about it but she played the fucking innocent, of course."

Harry frowned, "I take it by your tone you didn't believe her?"

"No," said Louis, surprisingly growing calmer. "It finally explained the weird way she had been acting since I had gotten back. I figured she had been over-compensating out of guilt and the worst of it was I would never have known if I hadn't caught Chlamydia.” He took in a long breath, “ _Unfortunately_ , by confronting her, I had also opened a can of worms. She, in turn, accused me of being the one to cheat and wouldn't accept any other explanation. She actually had the indecency to berate me for putting our child at risk by having sex with her after I'd been 'whoring around with god knows what in Germany'. I ended up getting so angry I stormed out."

"Wow, I don't even know what to say," Harry mumbled, rubbing his palms down his own cheeks. He looked wild, like he’d just been caught in a freak storm.

"Oh it gets better," Louis warned, gritting his teeth as he geared up for what came next. "So after a week's course of antibiotics, and sleeping in a hotel, I went back to the doctor to get tested to make sure it was gone. By then I was starting to waver and think there was maybe a chance I could have picked it up innocently... like in a dirty bathroom or something. Plus, Eleanor had gotten tested and informed me she was negative for it, which really did suggest I had got it elsewhere… _somehow_. Still, to be sure, I asked the doctor to give me a complete screening – just to be on the safe side. Lo and behold, I tested positive for Gonorrhoea too, which completely ruined any pretence there was an innocent explanation. As I had had no symptoms for the Gonorrhoea, I could have had it for months and not known. Who knew how much damage it could have done in that time? While the doctor thought I would probably make a full recovery, the long-term issues it could potentially cause terrified me witless.” Harry nodded sharply – he had had the talks at school too. “Anyway, enough was enough,” Louis continued. “Two STIs were definitely no accident. I knew if I confronted her again she would just deny it and we'd get nowhere. I needed evidence. So I did the necessary evil; I went back to our flat while she was in a lecture and hacked into her Facebook account. I know it was a violation of her privacy but I didn’t care – in my mind she had violated mine first. Anyway,” he took a deep breath, “I figured that if there was anywhere she might communicate with someone secretly, without worrying I might find out, it was on Facebook. You know how I feel about that site..."

Harry chuckled, "I think _everyone_ knows how much you despise it. I was always surprised you never signed up just so that you could tell everyone on there how bad it was."

Louis cracked a smile, "I was tempted," he admitted, "but figured I would get shut down pretty quickly for violating their terms and conditions. Not something that would look good for RLA if the press got wind."

"Knowing Facebook, they would probably have made an example of you," Harry agreed. "So... did you find anything on her account?"

Louis sobered instantly and looked down at his tea, "The funny thing is; I didn't actually expect to find anything. I didn't think she would be so stupid as to leave evidence around. I guess she was so sure on my hatred of the site she never thought I would go looking."

"But you did find something?" Harry pressed. Louis nodded. "Wow," Harry huffed out, "I'm _so_ sorry Lou." He shuffled forward in his seat and implored, "Why didn't you ever say anything to us? You shouldn't have had to deal with that alone. We would have stuck up for you."

"Pride, I think. Isn't that the usual culprit?" Louis shrugged sheepishly. "I was embarrassed. I mean, not only was I not man enough to keep my girlfriend satisfied in bed so she wouldn't seek it elsewhere but I also got two STIs for my troubles. Nobody wants to shout that about – especially not someone who is of regular interest to the press and likely to be ratted out by a weak link. It's hard enough to think of your nearest and dearest knowing that sort of intimate stuff about you let alone the general public."

Harry dipped his head in understanding before tilting it back up with a furrowed frown, "I guess I can appreciate where you’re coming from with that. I just wish you'd at least talked to one of us at the time – for your own benefit." He worried his bottom lip for a moment, "Can I asked what you found on Facebook? If you'd rather not talk about it then don't w..."

"Nah, it's fine," Louis cut in, with a wave of his hand, "it's not exactly a national secret.” He took a sip of his cooling tea before going on to explain, “When I looked at her messages I saw she had befriended – is 'befriended' the right word?" he frowned at Harry who nodded stiffly in return. " _Right_ ,” Louis snorted softly, “I can never remember the difference between these flaming websites. Not that it probably actually matters in the real world. Anyway… yeah, she had _befriended_ these two guys over the last few days and sent them a few messages each. Naturally curious, and still open to the idea of it being completely innocent, I stupidly opened the messages and ..." Louis screwed his face up in a wince, feeling an echo of pain from that awful moment, "and…” he choked a little, “and she was warning them about the Chlamydia." Across from him, Harry let out a whoosh of breath. "I mean," Louis chuckled damply, not knowing when his eyes had welled up, "you can't get much better evidence than that, can you? Why would she need to warn them about it unless they had been exposed? Like a glutton for punishment I looked back further in her messages, wondering just how long these hook ups had been going on for. I'd never really considered it might have been happening before I went to Germany. For some reason, I _had_ to know. I don’t know why but I needed the answer.” He swallowed hard, “It… uh… only took a few minutes to scroll back over a year as she didn’t message people very often - preferring to like and comment on posts instead. By the time I got to the previous Christmas and hadn’t seen anything else I stopped looking. I wasn’t convinced that the lack of any more evidence meant anything though. So what to do next? In my head there was only one way to really be sure and that was talk to the guys she had warned. So,” Louis’s face tightened as an age-old resentment started to set in, “I sent one of them a message."

"You did _what_?!" Harry balked, straightening up in alarm. There was a thud as his foot collided with the coffee table but Harry barely flinched, even though a little bit of tea slopped over the rim of his mug.

Louis attempted a casual shrug but his shaking hands probably rendered it useless, "I posed as Eleanor, used her account and sent one of them a message. I asked him if he could remember the date they had slept together – for medical purposes."

"Oh my god - did he reply?" Harry’s mouth was agape.

"Oh _yes_ ," Louis spat, "I can remember it word for word. _Which time babe? The first, the tenth or the last? Smirk face, kiss kiss_."

Harry's hand trembled around the handle of his cup and he swiftly put it down on the table. "Shit, Lou. _Shit_. What did you do, then?"

Louis shrugged, "I got rather pissed off and hacked into her Uni account. The stupid girl had used the same password for both that and Facebook." He pursed his lips and looked down at his tea, momentarily mesmerised by the swirling steam, "I wished I hadn't though. It wasn't nice...” a lump rose in his throat, “it was... it was pretty awful actually. In fact, it was probably worse than finding out she had slept with other guys."

"Worse?" Harry whispered.

"Yeah," Louis felt himself start to well up again. Although it was years ago, there were some things that would hurt no matter how much time lapsed. "There were all these chat things between her and her friends as they worked on essays and... and they took the piss out of me constantly - like I was a running joke. It was everything from the way I talked and the way I dressed, to my interests and my stupidity for not even realising I was being cheated on. Imagine everything you like about yourself and, worse, everything you don't, being ridiculed to the tune of 'and the only reason I put up with him is because of his status and my parents and sometimes I wonder if the money and fame will be worth this'."

"Oh my god... _Lou_ ," Harry wheezed out, eyes shimmering. He looked ready to cry too, which pushed Louis even closer to the edge. "That's so... so... _horrible_...” Harry’s voice shook, “I can't believe someone could be so callous. And to _you_ of all people. Nobody deserves that; least of all you."

Louis sniffed, "I know I can be odd at times but I didn’t think I had ever done anything to warrant that sort of hatred. I mean, I always tried to treat her as nicely and as respectfully as I could. I worked hard on our relationship – I made sure I gave her all the attention and support and affection she needed. So I won't lie," he swallowed thickly, "even though I wasn't exactly surprised by that stage, it still really, really hurt to hear those things. It was hard enough to find out she had been cheating on me; it was a whole new level of hurt to realise everything about our relationship had been a sham from the beginning... that she only wanted me for my status... and that,” he knuckled his eyes, “she openly mocked me with her friends on a regular basis. The same friends who had always been exceptionally nice to my face. I… God, Harry, I was so angry... so so soooooo angry. Probably more than I was earlier today. I just… I went mental. I went all around the flat stuffing her things haphazardly into black bags – fuck, I even threw in her open bottles of shampoo and shit in hope they would leak over everything. Then I called her to tell her to come home immediately and waited on the couch with the laptop open on the Facebook page. Twenty minutes later, she came storming in the door - raging because she had been working on her big economics project in the library and _didn't I know how important it was blah, blah, blah_." He chuckled darkly, "I've never seen anyone go whiter than when she saw what the browser was opened on. One look at the bags next to the door and she knew _I knew_. Let's just say the conversation that followed was not pretty at all.” He paused to sip his tea. “At first she had the nerve to be angry that I had violated her privacy. But, after I accused her of using privacy as a smokescreen to hide her indiscretions, she got all apologetic and hysterical and weepy. Then she started spouting some rubbish about crumbling under the pressure to be the perfect couple. Said she felt trapped and that she just needed to check our relationship was what she really wanted. According to her, she only slept with each of the two guys once and that was the absolute truth and she was really drunk at the time and regretted it as soon as it was over." Louis shook his head in disgust, "I think that was the moment her deception hit me the hardest. She was standing there and putting on the contrite act of the century - not knowing I knew every word she was saying was a bare-faced lie. I just stood there, listening to her go on and on, and I kept thinking _you’re lying, you’re actually lying to me, this is fake, it’s always been fake. Everything we’ve had for the last few years was fake._ ” He let out a shaky breath, “At first I couldn't even speak. I was so shocked. Up to that moment I don't think it had really sunk in that the girl I loved, the girl I had been with for three years, the girl I had plans to eventually marry and have children with, was a complete fabrication. But there it was; right in front of my face."

Harry seemed to have trouble finding his voice. It took him four attempts to ask, "did you tell her you knew she was lying?"

"Oh yeah. I just silently opened the reply I'd gotten from the guy and showed her the screen. The phoney tears stopped immediately. I then changed the tab and brought up the messages between her and her Uni friends.” He winced, “Things got a bit hairy after that. We uh… screamed at each other, she broke a picture of us, I cracked her laptop screen, she threw some stuff at me, I threw her stuff outside… Eventually I told her to get the hell out before I called the police. She was like ‘oh yeah where am I meant to go then?’ I said the street for all I cared. To which she asked if I would really do that to her and our baby? That's when it finally hit me. The ultimate question; how did I know this baby was..." he trailed off, looking down at his lap.

"Even yours?" Harry croaked, finishing the sentence Louis couldn’t. "Oh Jesus Lou..."

Louis nodded miserably, "So I asked her for the truth - if she actually knew for sure who the father was. At first she wouldn't answer, which pretty much answered the question anyway. But I told her to say it... to let me hear it – I needed to hear it said out loud. I told her I would be getting a paternity test anyway and that now would be the best time to tell me if she was at all uncertain. Fuck Haz, she looked me straight in the eye and told me that it was _definitely_ mine. I couldn’t believe it. How she could be so sure? She said it was the timing. She hadn't been with anyone three weeks either side of the conception date. It had to be mine and if I still wanted to get a paternity test then that was okay, she would consent. To say I was pretty stumped at that point would be an understatement. Not only did she appear genuine with her answer but she was also offering a paternity test without contest. It all suggested she must be bloody certain it was mine. So I foolishly and stupidly believed her.” Louis took another shaky sip of his tea. “After that she asked what I wanted to do. I kind of laughed in her face - said I needed some time to process all her lies before I could even contemplate thinking about what I wanted to do about the situation. But, for the time-being she had to leave. I couldn't stand to have her there – to be reminded constantly of her betrayal. So she went and stayed with a few friends. That was on the Tuesday. On the Thursday morning she... uh… she had the miscarriage." Louis suddenly choked up as he remembered receiving that horrific phone call from Eleanor's friend. He’d been pulled out of a four hour sleep - having stayed up ridiculously late finishing his last assignment – and could barely understand Laura's high-pitched word-vomit. The words pain, bleeding, hospital and Eleanor were enough to have him scrabbling out of bed; heart in his throat. He relived that horror now; shaking, shuddering and keening low.

"Hey, hey," Harry was out of his chair and on his knees, pulling Louis sideways into a tight embrace. Louis let out a shuddering breath and buried his face into Harry's cotton shirt. It was soft and familiar and he clung on to it for half a minute of solace before pulling back and rubbing his eyes. Harry sat back on the carpet and stared up at him intently, waiting for him to go on.

"When I arrived at the hospital," Louis sniffed, swiping at his eyes, "she... she was in a right state – as you can imagine. Completely hysterical. As soon as she saw me she started screaming that it was all my fault... that the stress I had put her under the other day had caused the miscarriage and that she would never forgive me for killing her child. I... I was... I dunno how to describe it... shocked? No, way _worse_. Horrified? Yeah, but more than that... Haunted? Guilt-ridden? Devastated? I don't think there are any words to describe what it feels like to be told you are probably the cause of your baby's death. I was utterly shattered."

"Louis," Harry sat up and gripped Louis's knees, imploring him to listen, "I do not believe that you had anything to do with the miscarriage."

"I didn't,” Louis admitted, “but at the time I didn't know that. There… there are a lot of myths about pregnancies and I was none the wiser that stress is not actually a viable cause of miscarriage. Therefore, it should be understandable that the following four days after it were the worst of my life. I don't think I ate or slept at all. In fact, if the hospital hadn't called when they had, I think our lives would be very different right now." He said the last part quietly, almost a whisper. It wasn’t something he was proud of but he needed someone to understand just how badly he’d been affected. When you’re accused of being the cause of your child’s death and you are a decent person, the guilt and shame and fear is so immense you contemplate all kinds of horrible things.

"Christ Lou," Harry balked, squeezing his eyes closed with a shudder, "please don't say things like that so lightly."

"Sorry," Louis mumbled, "but it's the truth. I'm many things Haz but strong enough to live with the knowledge I'd inadvertently killed a baby is not one of those things. Anyway," he shook his head to clear away the cloying thoughts and tried to focus on his previous thread, "it doesn’t matter now. The hospital called with the preliminary cause of death and said their tests showed Eleanor had developed an infection - likely from an untreated pre-pregnancy condition. They told me they wouldn't have the full results back from the lab for at least another 2-4 weeks but it would likely just be further confirmation. God, Haz, you have no idea of the relief I felt in that moment. An infection, _not_ stress, was the cause. It wasn’t me. I wasn't solely responsible for the miscarriage. I probably had no hand in it at all. Lord knows what the poor woman on the phone thought because I just started crying like a baby and kept thanking her over and over again. It was kind of mortifying.”

“I’m sure she understood,” Harry soothed, “she would have seen a lot of different reactions in her time. A lot of different stories and circumstances too.”

Louis scrunched up his face; even if true, it didn’t really stop the curl of humiliation in his stomach. “Maybe,” he allowed before taking another sip of tea. “When I had calmed down somewhat, I was able to think more clearly. I realised Eleanor, in her attempt to stop me finding out about the cheating, had either lied about having an STI test or had lied about the results. Either way, she hadn’t had it treated. That got me suspicious again. After everything, including me finding out anyway, why would she lie about that and put the baby at risk? My mind immediately went back to the one question that had yet to be proven despite Eleanor’s insistence she was telling the truth. Was I the father? So I rang the hospital back and asked if it would be possible to get a paternity test. They said that would be fine but I would have to give them a DNA sample as soon as possible. The next day I did exactly that, growing ever more sure of what the results would be. Then I went home to pack up my things and got the first train down to Zayn's. I didn't trust myself to be around Eleanor – especially knowing she had falsely made me think I had had been the reason of the miscarriage. I suppose I could have gone to my Mum’s but for some reason I just wanted to get out of Manchester. I needed to come to terms with everything and didn’t think I could do it there. Zayn, I knew, would give me all the time and space I needed to sort myself out with minimal fussing. So I moved into his spare room and started working my job at RLA as a tech assistant early, burying myself in work to keep my mind off things. Then, about two weeks later, the official results came through the post. To put it simply, Eleanor had tested positive for Chlamydia and Gonorrhoea, one of which had caused a fatal infection in the placenta. The final nail in the coffin, so to speak, was the paternity results. I was not the father. Although, I had already worked that out for sure a few days prior. When I got the preliminary result phone call I had requested a written copy of the report to be sent to me. In a fit of denial, I had re-read that report from top to bottom and finally noticed they listed the age of the foetus as being three weeks younger than what El had originally told me. So she was only three weeks pregnant when she found out, not six like she led us all to believe. Amazing how I could have impregnated her when I was all the way in Germany and had been for over half a month."

Harry just stared up at him with his hands over his mouth. Louis ploughed on. "As Eleanor had received her own set of results there was very little to be said between us after that. I didn’t know if she knew I knew about the paternity but I didn’t care. The moment I finished reading the report I put notice on the flat in Manchester, called her to let her know what a horrible person she was and that was that, we never crossed paths again. Until this morning, that is."

For a long minute there was silence. Harry was gazing up at him with something akin to horror – his breathing unnaturally loud.

"And you… you… kept this all to yourself?" he finally croaked. "You never told anyone other than Cole and your Grandfather?" Louis shook his head. " _Why_?" Harry breathed out in complete flabbergast. "Why would you protect her like that, especially when it made you out to be the bad guy? She did not deserve that clemency!"

"Again, it mostly comes back to pride," Louis admitted, hugging himself. "I… uh… was so embarrassed about having been taken for a fool I didn't want _anyone_ to know... I was afraid the public would find out. I couldn’t stand the thought that, for the rest of my life, every time I met someone’s eyes they’d be thinking about it – maybe wondering what I had done to El to deserve such treatment or, worse, wondering if I’m still infected by those STIs. It’s one thing for your friends and family to look at you like that, it’s a whole other thing for random members of the public, peers and potential employers to do the same. I would have never have lived it down and neither would anyone I was associated with.” He swallowed hard, “And _then_ there was my family to think about."

"Yeah," Harry straightened up, "how does your family fit into this? Surely they must have known something wasn't right with the picture they were painted afterwards?"

"No. They didn’t – they _don't_ \- have a clue. I couldn't tell them," Louis looked up, silently pleading Harry to understand. "At the time I told myself if they learned the truth it could potentially destroy the sixty year friendship between our Grandmothers. Nan and Josephine loved each other so much. They grew up together, had gone to school together, became nurses together, survived the second world war together, were bridesmaids at each other's weddings… hell, they even named their children after each other! One could argue that nothing could ever divide them but I didn’t want to run the risk of driving a wedge. Who was _I_ to try and destroy something as amazing as their friendship? Who was _I_ to force them to take sides – to make one feel betrayed and the other guilty for something completely out of their control? Who was I to put them to the test just because I was hurting? Why did they need to know? What good could have possibly come from telling them? _Nothing_ , that's what. All it would have been was vindictiveness on my part to see Eleanor hurt and shamed." He swallowed hard and stared back down at his hands. "Then there was mum and the girls to think about. They idolised El – still do seemingly – and they would have been heartbroken to have learned the truth. It's one thing for El to betray me, it's a whole different ball game for them to learn El had lied and betrayed them _too_. Don't forget, at the time, Daisy and Phoebe were just kids and Fizz and Lottie were young impressionable teens – especially when it came to El. They idolised her – wanted to _be_ her! I just didn't think they could have handled that level of betrayal, not at such a young and important age. Then there was Mum – she was so certain we’d end up married she had practically adopted El as a daughter. In fact, as time went on, I got the feeling she cared more about Eleanor’s welfare than mine. Eleanor was my saviour, she once said, the person to ground me, to keep me on the straight, to put and end to my silly dramatics. With all that in mind, coupled with the suspicion mum was heading for a divorce with my Stepdad, I made a choice. I didn’t want to upset them any more than I needed to. So I made up a lame excuse about El and I growing apart that wouldn't have even fooled a goldfish and hid myself in London.” He took another slurp of tea before adding, “I can't really blame then from jumping to their own conclusions – for believing the worst in me. In their eyes, I’ve always been the problem-child of the family - the black sheep. So it probably wasn’t too hard to believe I had risen to be the kind of guy who was too much of a coward to stay and help his girlfriend through a miscarriage. To them, I was the bad guy who ruined all their plans of being one big happy family and you know... as hard as it was... _is_... to know they hate me for it, I think it was the best decision to make at the time. Nan died a lot happier than she would have done otherwise."

For a long moment Harry didn't say anything until, "Fucking hell… you are a fucking stupid, selfless, bloody-amazing twat." Louis looked up at him in shock. Harry's eyes were red; there were tear marks down his cheeks and the expression on his face... Louis ducked his head again, thoroughly embarrassed. "So that's the reason you rarely go home," said Harry, his voice full of sad realisation, "why you pretend things aren't _that_ strained between your family when anyone with eyes can see something is very wrong... and… and we didn't have a clue... Oh _Lou_... Why did you never talk to the rest of us? Why didn't you let us sit in your corner and support you? God… You've kept this a secret from almost everyone for seven years! How did you ever find the strength?!"

"I don't know," Louis mumbled, feeling his eyes start to prickle again, "I think a lot of it was cowardice and hurt pride. You know… the usual issues that make men  problematic or whatever the buzz word is these days. Bruised egos and embarrassment are really good at helping you stay quiet on personal matters. Plus, I didn't exactly leave unscathed. I… uh… have some trust issues and…” he suddenly stopped short, realising in alarm what he was just about to casually let slip. Two words; two simple words that held the weight of all his relationship problems. Two simple words that had put him off pursuing a partner – from pursuing _Harry_. Two words that had caused him so much fear, pain, and trouble for the last seven years. They were his whole problem in a nutshell; the reason he was why he was today. And to make it worse; they were the hardest and most embarrassing words for a man to utter. Why? Who knew? Perhaps it was societal pressure or perhaps it was just a natural male instinct like being territorial – either way, it was one of the most difficult things to talk about, especially with other males… especially with the person who possibly held your heart in their hands.

Louis swallowed hard.

“And what?” Harry probed, his tone gentle but his eyes dogged and sharp. Louis recognised that look - he was not going to get away with any weak half-truths.

He cringed and weighed up his options. Did he tell the truth or did he lie? Well, he could never lie to Harry’s face – which was why they were having this conversation in the first place. So… some form of the truth it would have to be then… How bad could it possibly be? Well, the first concern was getting over the embarrassment of the subject itself. It was hard enough to look one’s doctor in the eye while dicussing such issues let alone a friend. However, he and Harry had survived other equally embarrassing personal problems, such as Piles and Diarrhoea, in the past and survived. Okay, so the embarrassment was probably negligible in the long run but there was a much bigger, more important, more fundamental, issue than that to deal with; Harry’s reaction. Of course, there was the tiniest remote chance that Harry would be okay with his ‘situation’ but… Louis thought the likelihood was so low it was laughable. Very few people in the world would be okay with Louis’ situation, especially in the long run. But, maybe it was only fair to tell Harry the true extent of it - show him what he’s up against. That way, if he couldn’t deal with it, Harry might be able to finally get over him and Louis would be saved from falling any further down the rabbit hole. Although, a part of him figured it would be too late to get out of this without some heartbreak if Harry pulled away. No, it was only fair that Harry should finally know what he’s been up against all this time – what he’ll be up against in the future as well.

Summoning up all his courage, Louis took a deep breath. He closed his eyes, couldn’t watch the potential fatal car crash come towards him as he said, “and… uh… _intimacy_ _issues_.”

"Intimacy iss...” Harry trailed off, he sounded confused. Louis’s face grew hotter and hotter with every pound of his heart. He internally pleaded for Harry to ‘get it’ so that he didn’t have to spell it out. “Oh... _the celibacy_ ," Harry breathed out in sudden understanding. Louis let out a shaky sigh of relief and opened his eyes. At least he didn’t have to ramble through an explain, small mercy. _God_. This was everything that stood between him and proper relationship. Sex was pivotal to the lasting of any relationship – as Eleanor had made abundantly clear. Louis’s body no longer had any interest in it – it might even have a fear of it - a guttural revulsion as his subconscious associated it with disease and betrayal. What use was he to anyone like that? Who would want to date a guy who had a panic attack at the mere prospect of having sex? He was a complete freak.

But Harry seemed to think it was par for the course of Louis’s ordeal, a natural reaction - one to be expected and respected. "Blimey," he breathed out, "after everything you've been through it is no wonder you’re reluctant to go there again. Crikey, if it had been me and it had been a guy, I would probably have been turned straight." Louis couldn't help a small chuckle at the awkward mental image of Harry with a woman and Harry took it on the chin, smiling at him with gentle encouragement. "If it isn’t too personal to ask, is it more a case of you emotionally can’t or physically can't?"

Louis took a shaky sip of his tea, feeling his cheeks burst into flames again. He must be redder than a tomato by now. Even Cole and his Grandfather didn't know the details of his 'intimacy problems'. However he found himself wanting to talk about it with Harry, which was more than a little weird. Perhaps, deep down, it was a test to see whether Harry's feelings for him were mostly rooted in sexual attraction and, if so, finally kill off his own curiosity about travelling that road. He wasn't going to set himself up for another heartbreak – especially when he’d not just be losing a crush but also one of the greatest friends he’s ever had. "It’s rooted in emotion,” he admitted, “there’s nothing physically wrong… I just… _can’t_ … What used to arouse me before now turns me off.” He shuddered, “It was an unexpected side effect of the whole ordeal. I guess either the STIs or the failed pregnancy created some kind of anxiety in my head which associates sex with disease, loss or betrayal. At least, that's what a therapist said when I forced myself to go one time. He told me I had to re-teach my body to not treat sex as a threat and, according to him, that's not a quick or easy thing to do.” Harry seemed genuinely interested in this, leaning forward as he listened without an inch of judgement in his expression. It gave Louis the courage to keep talking. “One method,” he explained, “is immersion therapy. It’s where you expose yourself to your fear until you become immune.” Louis chuckled darkly at the awful memory of attempting just that, “The two times I tried were absolute failures and very embarrassing for both parties." He snorted at himself, "It was bad enough for me to never try it again. Hence the celibacy and my withdrawal from the dating pool. I can't imagine a night would end in my favour if I drop them home and say 'I would love to see you again but, before you say yes and start wondering about our long term prospects, I must inform you that we won't be having sex any time soon – possibly ever. So if you have a problem with that then now is the time to say’. It would just end in gentle brush-off after gentle brush-off. I mean, what kind of person would be interested in having a relationship with someone who might never be able to have sex?"

Harry leaned forward and gently squeezed his hand. There was no mockery in his face, just concern and a hefty amount of seriousness. "Surely you know it is a fallacy that sex has to be a major part of _every_ relationship? It’s perfectly okay and normal to have a non-sexual romantic relationship with someone. If you really care about a person then sex should be a bonus not an expectation. Although, if someone needs it on the regular or they fall out of love then maybe that’s not someone worth your time in the first place. Anyway,” he shrugged, “from what you’ve told me, it’s likely it’s only a temporary problem – something that you’ll get over with a bit of time and patience. I think you’d be surprised just how many people out there would be _very understanding_ of your plight.” He took a breath and looked Louis dead in the eye, “I know _I_ certainly wouldn’t find it a deal breaker if I was really interested in the person. The skill of my right hand is more than adequate."

Louis’s heart stuttered in his chest. _Holy crap, holy crap, holy crap! Did Harry really just say that!? Did he really just… Holy crap, holy crap, holy crap_! Not only had Harry just reassured him that his issue was probably temporary and that there were plenty of people out there who wouldn’t be put off by it but he had also inferred that one of those people would be _him_. Harry would not be put off a relationship with him just because sex might be off the menu. The thought was both utterly terrifying _and_ incredible at the same time. It also changed everything. God, it put a whole new spin on his and Harry’s potential future.

"It's not just the sex either," he found himself saying, suddenly determined to put everything on the table to see if anything could still push Harry away. "I've never been brave enough to find out what damage the STIs have caused. I... I uh... took a secondary infection with the Chlamydia and, without going into too much over-share, the doctor warned I could have fertility issues in the future. He offered to run further tests to find out but I turned them down. I was too afraid the results would be bad. It’s one thing to worry about permanent damage being a possibility; it’s another thing to know for sure. If I were to get into a relationship with someone, even an arranged marriage, then I would probably need to face those fears because it would be unfair to keep that possibility a secret from a partner. The problem is," his voice started to shake, "I'm not sure I could…. I’m not sure I could cope with finding out I can't ever have children. It’s both something I’ve always wanted and something I need." Tears bubbled up uncontrollably as he finally admitted his biggest fear, "As the only heir, I'm the one who's expected to keep the line going. I don’t think I could handle my family’s disappointment if they found out I can’t produce a legitimate heir of my own. I’m the last in that line – they’ll lose the Earldom if I can’t pass it on."

"Louis," Harry choked out, sitting up on his knees and peering entreatingly into his eyes, "if your family's disappointment is more focused on the fact that you can't give them an heir, rather than on the emotional impact it has on you, then their opinions are worthless. The same thing goes for any future partner of yours. Sure, you have to expect a little bit of disappointment that having a family won't be as straightforward as it normally is but this is the 21st Century. There are hundreds of options to have children if you really want them. Straight or gay or anywhere in between; there’s always options. If someone truly loves you then the question of fertility will not be a factoring issue in whether they stay or not. Also, you don't actually know what the truth is, there's a good chance you are perfectly fine."

"I suppose," Louis allowed and then chuckled incredulously as he swiped a hand over his damp cheeks. "Fuck, how did you get to be so cool and wise?"

"Acting classes; the show must go on and all that," Harry joked, raising a small, cheeky smile in attempt to tease one out of Louis.

"Well," Louis replied softly, managing a weak turn-up of his lips, "in that case, has the MSA got any advice on how to deal with the invite to Eleanor's wedding? That was what our argument was about this morning after all.” At Harry’s confused furrow he added, “She turned up on my doorstep with my decline in hand to demand I attend regardless. When I declined again she started to use threats to coerce me, which caused our argument to escalate to the point I earned the slap mark on my cheek."

Harry frowned even harder as he reached out to gently thumb the said red patch, "Why the hell would she even want you there?” He asked. “Considering what she did, isn't she afraid that you might spill the beans? Surely she wouldn’t want to risk her wedding day being ruined and having herself humiliated in front of her whole family."

"Oh, she's pretty certain I wouldn't tell anyone. She knows the reasons why I haven't said anything so far and boldly thinks they will prevent me from spilling in the future. A part of me wants to drop her in it just to prove otherwise… As for why she wants me there,” he wrinkled his nose distastefully, “she wants me to forgive her so she can move on with a clear conscience and me going to the wedding would be a sign of that."

"She wants you to forgive her?!" Harry squeaked. "She must have given you a hell of an apology to ask for that!"

Louis laughed sarcastically, "Yeah right, you’d think? But no, absolutely no apology - hence why I told her where to go in no uncertain terms."

"I take it," Harry winced as he pointed to Louis’s cheek, "that's how you got that?"

"Pretty much," Louis nodded, touching the slap mark gingerly, it was still tender, "To be honest, I was shouting so much I'm not sure I can even remember what rebuke was the one that earned me this. I probably deserved it."

"I highly doubt it, considering everything."

“Hmmm…” Louis pursed his lips together and sat back, raising an enquiring eyebrow. “So, now that you know the full story, do you think I’m right in not going to the wedding. Or do you think there be some benefits in making an appearance so as not to make things worse between Mum and me?"

"N-" Harry began before cutting himself off abruptly. "Um,” he scratched the back of his neck and winced, “I was going to say ‘are you mental – of course you shouldn’t go!’ but actually, I’m not so sure that there wouldn’t actually be benefits." He slowly chewed his bottom lip as he thought through the pros and cons. “While I would be loathed to let Eleanor think for one moment you've forgiven her without her having earned it, it _could_ be closure for _you_ ,” he offered after a long moment – his tone careful. “By that I mean, maybe it's what _you_ need – to know that part of your past is truly over – to help you move on and conquer your other issues? I bet the anger you’ve harboured by keeping it all a secret is part of the reason you have been unable to work through your issues. Perhaps, by letting go of that anger, it might help you knock down some of those blocks you’ve built to protect yourself. Again, I’m not saying ‘forgive her’ and make happy families, God no! I mean, maybe try to make peace within yourself that what happened is now fully in the past by using her wedding as an absolute end point. Also, if your family sees you going to the wedding and that you’re both have no issues in seeing each other move on then maybe it’ll help them move on too. It could be the bridge you need to get back in with your mum and the girls – if you're still planning not to ever tell them the truth, that is."

"True," said Louis slowly, having not considered that angle.

"And you know; if you do decide to go and you want some back up," Harry waggled his eyebrows with a crooked grin, "I'm sure I could get the day off - nothing better than a bit of free cake."

"You'd do that for me? _Really_?" Louis asked in surprise, genuinely touched by the offer.

"Of course I would!” Harry snorted, “what are _best mates_ for?"

Somehow Louis knew the words 'best mates' tasted sour on Harry's tongue and he couldn't help but feel exceptionally fond at his friend's attempt to ignore his own feelings in order to help him out. It didn’t stop him from teasing, "And you wouldn't be tempted to say something on my behalf it you heard something you didn't like?" He raised an eyebrow.

Harry hesitated then offered a winning smile, "If you didn't want me to say anything then I wouldn't. But I can't guarantee that I wouldn't spit in someone's champagne when you weren't looking."

"That would be more than fine," Louis laughed, his heart suddenly feeling incredibly warm, "let me think about it, okay?"

"Of course, no pressure," Harry replied, shrugging. "It's your decision. Just let me know what you decide.” He checked his watch and offered a lofty smile. “So, before you start over-thinking having told me all this, how about we head to this activity and focus your mind on something more fun for a few hours?"

"Yeah, _please_ ," Louis sighed gratefully. It was amazing how much Haz knew him; his friend was right, there was a real danger, now, that Louis would start to over-think which could lead to a misguided down-spiral of panic, embarrassment and regret. This weekend was all about Niall and he didn’t want to be the cause of any damper on the celebration. Decisive; he drained the last of his tea and stood up, offering his hand to Harry to help him to his feet too. Harry took his hand in a gentle grip but instead of using it to push himself up he squeezed Louis’s fingers instead. Louis stared down into his eyes; reading everything the silent gesture was meant to signify like it was text on a page. There was nothing to regret in having opened up to him, Harry was telling him; he would keep his secret and have his back – there was nothing to fear from having one more person in the know. Louis swallowed thickly, his throat tightening up with emotion and appreciation. Harry was utterly amazing. Louis couldn’t be luckier to have such a decent bloke in his life. His friend had been so understanding... so _genuinely_ nice - even when he was talking about things that had to make the lad a bit jealous or uncomfortable. Nobody liked listening to their crush talk about their relationship with another person. But Harry had weathered it admirably. Add that to the way he’d reacted to the intimacy issues… and Louis felt he had to say something in acknowledgement. He needed to show his friend that his efforts were noted and very much appreciated. "And Harry...?"

Harry let himself be pulled to his feet before shooting Louis an inquiring smile, their faces only a foot away from each other, intimate but not awkwardly so. "Yeah?"

"Thanks for listening to me rant and... thanks for being so cool. I didn't know how much I needed to get that all out and the way you handled it made it all the easier."

"Anytime," Harry replied softly, brushing Louis's cheek with his knuckles, "anytime Louis,” his voiced hoarsened, “ _anywhere_. You should know that by now."

His gravelly tone, or was it the unadulterated affection, shot a wave of something hot across Louis’s stomach. It was a sensation he was long unaccustomed to and for a moment it unsteadied him. As Harry pulled back and turned around to reach for his coat, Louis found himself wanting to reach out and… and… and do something. What it was, he wasn’t sure. He knew it was something new though, something heady, something intimidating, something that had his heart thudding loudly in his chest and his mouth growing dry. Words crawled up his throat. He tried to hold them back but it was near-on impossible. "Did you mean what you said about sex not mattering?"

Harry froze mid sleeve and Louis’s insides instantly curled up as his hand flew to his mouth in horror – a fraction too late to be of any use now. Okay, so that hadn't been subtle in any shape or form. _Shit, shit, shit_ , he thought in panic. Anyone with half an ounce of wit could see the metaphorical fishing rod... there was only one reason why someone would ask that particular question after everything… _Fuck_. Fuckity fuck fuck. Now Harry was going to wonder if the only reason that Louis had never dated him was because he didn't think Harry would want him without sex. Which was kinda true unfortunately but Harry didn’t need to know that, not after how amazing he had just been. _Shit, shit, shit_ , Louis felt his eyes start to sting in the face of his own stupidity. Of all the ways he had envisioned Harry might find out that he had feelings for him it wasn't anything like this – a lame, slightly desperate, half-cocked question with a vague overtone after a whole messy emotional outpouring. Then again, this was Harry, he was talking about; he might simply dismiss the obvious by thinking it wasn't possible. After ten years of unrequited feelings and joking, it wasn’t a far stretch of the imagination to think Harry might not take it seriously. Why that invoked a sense of disappointment within himself Louis didn’t want to contemplate just now. Instead, he braced himself for whatever reaction was coming.

Very slowly Harry turned around and Louis had to fight not to screw his eyes closed as his insides curled up even more. The expression on Harry's face was unreadable though and, after a moment, Louis shifted uncomfortably, barely suppressing the instinct to step back when Harry stepped forward. Harry took another step and suddenly his face was inches from Louis’s own, gentle green eyes looking down deep into his soul. Louis was instantly transfixed. He could see the barely concealed elation in their depths and knew Harry had understood just what Louis had been getting at with that question. For a moment Louis marvelled at Harry's strength (or was it fear?); it had to be killing his friend to hold back on dancing for joy to a suggestion the thing he'd been yearning for, for over ten years, could be possible.

"I can't speak for everyone," Harry rumbled, his voice like hot honey warming the pit of Louis's stomach, "but it would not matter to me.” He swallowed visibly and Louis was glued to the bob of his throat and the smoothness of his words, “Of course,” Harry added, more softly, “I would be eager to offer as much help and support to my partner as possible and hope we could conquer the problem together but... if that was impossible, then it would not change my feelings or my desire to have a relationship with a celibate person. I was given a right hand for a reason."

For a long moment Louis kept Harry’s gaze and saw nothing but honesty and acceptance shining back at him. He tried to hold on to that for as long as possible but eventually he crumpled into the beckoning laughter, leaning forward to bury his face into Harry's shirt. "Can you ever not ruin a serious moment?" He chuckled into the warm cloth. "Right hand... _really_?" He felt Harry's chest stutter as he, too, laughed at his own allusion.

Eventually the chuckles subsided and Louis pulled back, looking up once again. Harry was grinning down at him and looking very pleased with himself and oddly beautiful.

"Defence mechanism, sorry," he apologised, not sounding sorry at all.

Louis just shook his head, amused and endeared.

"Hey," Harry croaked, his expression suddenly growing serious as he lowered his head to gently knock their foreheads together, breath a warm minty rush against Louis' chin, "I meant what I said... okay?"

Louis nodded stiffly, feeling the sticky heat of Harry's forehead slide against his own and liking how it bloomed warmth in his chest. "Yeah, okay," he whispered.

They held like that for a long few moments, letting the enormity of the moment sink in, until Louis pulled back, clearing his throat, "I uh... just need some time to process that though. Yeah?" He really did; probably about a century.

"Of course," Harry agreed, making to move towards the bathroom. "One little step at a time... oh and Lou?"

"Mmm?" Louis looked up from where he’d been reaching for his wallet.

"Thank you for being honest with me. That was really brave of you."

Somehow Louis knew Harry didn't just mean the secret behind his and Eleanor's break up and the lump from earlier took up residency in his throat. He managed a watery nod before determinedly heading for his overnight bag.


	11. Chapter 10

They were, surprisingly, only ten minutes late for the activity and when they arrive nothing had even started yet. Everyone was just milling around waiting for the groom and organiser to arrive. Harry and Louis slipped into the not-so-small crowd and found their way to Zayn and Liam. The two men shared pointed looks with Harry, obviously silently asking how ‘the talk’ went, and Louis was ridiculously grateful that Harry just gave them the thumbs up with a “all good, guys”. It was a big relief to know, even though he hadn’t really doubted, that Harry was going to keep his word.   
As though he knew exactly what he was thinking, Harry put an arm around Louis’s back and squeezed his shoulder reassuringly. Liam looked like he was going to ask for more details but they were quickly joined by Niall’s friend Sean and Liam’s pal Andy and he cut himself off. Sean and Andy were giddy by the fact there were some real celebrities in attendance (Harry, Louis and Zayn didn’t count supposedly) – celebrities like James McAvoy, Jack Whitehall, James Corden, Liam Neeson, Colin Farrell, Ed Sheeran, Daniel Radcliffe, two guys from Snowpatrol and the lead from The Script… just to name a few. All in all there had to be about forty folk waiting around and, from the diverse line-up, it showed just what an awesome guy Niall really was.

“Okay,” said Louis dryly, as he looked around himself at the vast expanse of grass, unimpressed, “any of you two know why we’re here at some random… _park_?”

“Segway Polo!” Greg announced loudly as he, Niall and a few guys in black fleeces walked up behind him. Niall looked positively thrilled – his grin stretching from ear to ear. However, there was a muted murmur of delighted disbelief and a louder resound of utter confusion amid the gathered group. Louis, for one, had no idea what was going on. What the hell was Segway Polo? He wasn’t alone. Both Liam and Harry were staring at him blankly.

“Segway polo…” Sean repeated slowly, “as in those electric things on wheels?”

“Yes,” there was a sudden chorus of whoops as people cottoned on, “exactly those,” Greg confirmed, “and… _my God_ Louis,” he stopped and stared at him incredulously, “that’s a lovely handprint! Did you tell Lottie exactly what a wanker her husband is again?”

“Something like that,” Louis mumbled, blushing bright red as the forty strong group of celebrities and strangers turned to stare and chuckle at his expense. “You know I don’t like to lie, especially to family.” He was very much aware of the irony but the joke seemed to lessen the concern in Zayn and Liam’s eyes, which was definitely a positive. Perhaps they genuinely now thought it _was_ to do with Lottie and Willard – not a bad thing really, it would quell the questions. Niall, who was sporting a pair of ridiculous antlers and clearly a few pints in the black already, heartily thumped Louis on the back and pressed a fluffy tail into his hand, hailing him, “the honorary wounded buck” much to everyone’s amusement.

Segway Polo turned out to be mad, rad and bloody tricky as hell. At first none of them could really control the Segways let alone do so while hitting a ball with a mallet at the same time. After a while though, with most of them having fallen off at least once, they became less concerned about looking stupid in front of the other lads and more interested in showing off at being daring. Despite his usual lack of coordination, Harry took to the game pretty well and, by an hour in, was the only one to boast about having not fallen off and gotten mud on his trousers yet. That was until Greg decided to ‘accidentally’ hit a couple of divots his way, which caused a lot of laughter and Harry to pout ridiculously as grass tumbled out of his hair. Louis felt a curl of affection flop around in his stomach at Harry’s childlike petulance and made a show of protecting him as he helped Harry de-soil.

Once the group had the general hang of using the Segways they broke up into four teams and rotated around playing games. They had the pitch booked until half six but by the turn of the hour, even with the flood lights on, it was getting difficult to keep track of the ball in the dark. Plus everyone was getting cold and hungry so they decided to call it quits after a pretty dirty game that saw Harry’s team, lead by McAvoy, declared the overall winners. Louis’ team came a respectable third and he, Corden and Farrell led their team into an epic war dance towards the overall losing team, which was also, coincidentally, the team Liam had played in.

Dinner was reserved for half seven so they didn’t have a lot of time to shower off the mud, change into their evening attire and get to the restaurant. As he warmed up in the shower, Louis found himself slowly starting to grin as he realised that, after talking to Harry, he had managed to really enjoy the Segway Polo and hadn’t even thought about Eleanor once. It was amazing how much just talking could help; sure he was still furious about what had happened and was certainly nowhere near ready to forgive her but… he found that the earlier rage was gone, even when casting his mind back on the morning’s events. Perhaps there was something in that old saying, ‘a problem shared is a problem halved’. Reluctantly switching the shower off, he hurried through getting dried and dressed so that he could spend a little more time on his hair. Sue him, he had priorities… and no it wasn’t so he looked good for Harry. Well, maybe, a little. He was confused, okay? The one thing that had stopped him from exploring his feelings for his best friend was the thing that Harry had just told him wouldn’t matter to him. He was treading on uncertain ground right now.

Liam, Zayn and Harry were already waiting in the reception hall when he got down stairs and he couldn’t help but wolf whistle at Harry’s chosen attire. He had slid on a pair of skin-tight black trousers and a black casual blazer with a black sheer shirt underneath – the latter’s buttons open almost down to his naval, showing off his bird tattoos. Louis pinged the top of the few done-up buttons playfully, “Oh boy, the titties are out; Mr Styles means business tonight everyone.”

Harry blushed and pushed his hand away as the other two hee-hawed like idiots. “Like you’re one to talk,” he ribbed back, “in terms of ratio, how much time did you spend on your hair compared to everything else?”

“Hey,” said Louis, swishing his head like a model, “I’m going to be spending the evening within ten metres of some of Glamour’s top 100 hottest men. I do not want to look absolutely ridiculous in comparison.”

“You do know I was voted, like, number 16 in that poll,” Zayn asked, with an eyebrow waggle just as Harry muttered something that sounded similar to “Like you ever could ridiculous.”

“True,” Liam nodded at Zayn with a sharkish grin, “although they put Tom Hardy in the top 5, which, according to Sophia, showed what a sham the article actually was.”

“ _Hey_! I made number 6,” Harry protested. “Are you saying I’m not good-looking enough to make the top ten?”

“Uh… not really my area of expertise,” Liam shrugged, giving Louis a long look.

Unaware of the eyes on him, “Don’t worry Haz,” said Louis without thinking, “you’re definitely in my top five.” Poor Harry looked like he’d just had his face smashed with a pan and Louis… didn’t really regret it. He felt looser and more carefree than he had in years. And if flirting with Harry made him feel good, so be it. Even if Liam and Zayn were now giving each other what the hell looks. Harry quickly herded them all outside.

By the time they arrived at the restaurant the banter had elevated Louis’ buoyant mood to a whole new level. He must have communicated that good mood somehow because Zayn and Liam were laughing and joking with him as though he wasn’t still wearing a slap mark. Perhaps they were convinced the story of Lottie was the truth, in which case, _brilliant_. It’s not like he would ever feel bad about bad-mouthing Willyhard *cough* Willard.

Just as they were just handing over their coats to the maitre-d, a few of Harry’s fans seemed to have finally recognised them and were congregating outside the restaurant window, peering in with their phones. Harry was obviously a bit embarrassed, judging by his blushing cheeks and awkward shuffling. With a muttered apology he quickly stepped back outside, evidently aiming to try and coerce them to leave. Louis hung back as well, to keep an eye on his famous friend, just in case Harry got mobbed or even kidnapped. He’d read enough horror stories about the crazy things some fans do to celebrities in order to be very wary of them – even if they were still school-aged.

“Sorry ladies,” he listened as Harry addressed them in a peppy apologetic manner, “but I’m on official stag-do duties tonight and don’t have much time to spare,” he winked ridiculously, which made Louis chuckle as the girls tittered, stars glowing in their eyes. Harry was so good with people. “However, I’ll give you one quick group photo if you make it clear on Twitter that I’m not going to stop for the rest of the night. _And_ , if nobody follows me around or films me or my friends without my consent, I promise I will try to be at the airport early tomorrow morning for anyone who wants to see me. But I will check the internet before I leave so if there are any inappropriate photos or videos I won’t be there tomorrow. Deal?”

The girls agreed, some of them already typing furiously into their phones, twitter apps recognisable even from eight feet away. Then, to Louis’ surprise and slight embarrassment one of the girls recognised him, squealing out his name, which had heads whipping around. There was a sudden clamour for him to join in the shot and Harry gave him a silent pleading look - holding out an arm in invitation. Shaking his head in amusement, Louis acquiesced and stepped out onto the pavement, slipping into Harry’s waiting side. He blushed even harder when he was sure he heard one of the girls behind him mutter, “oooh they’d make such a cute couple.” He smiled for the camera and wondered if the photo would make it’s way to the rags. He found he didn’t much care.  
After two group photos so that the person behind the camera got a chance to be in a shot, the girls stuck to their word and walked away. Harry led Louis back inside the restaurant with a quiet “thanks” and the celebrations began in earnest.

 

~*~

 

“Unghhhhhh,” Louis groaned pitifully as he became aware of a sickening thud in his head. The rhythmic pulse seemed to snake up over his skull and down behind his eyes, making his stomach roll with nausea. _Shit, what the hell happened last night_? Everything in his body seemed to ache and he felt feverish with the cold chill of the air setting his skin alight with Goosebumps. He pressed his face further into the soft pillow only vaguely thinking it wasn’t very comfortable.

“Nghh,” echoed another weak voice in reply, “ssh… not so loud… die quietly love.” There was a clumsy patting of his head and whatever he was lying on shifted, making Louis’s insides roll uneasily. He screwed his eyes closed and sighed in relief when whatever, _whoever_ , stopped moving. As he look shallow breaths to settle his stomach again, Louis tried to muddle out some sort of brain function.

“S’ what times it?” He slurred, afraid if he made much more effort into articulating then he’d be sick.

There was a rustle, a slight jostle, a quiet beep and a hoarse groan of, “six forty-three in the morning.”

“S’ that you Haz, yeah?” Louis ventured, thinking the hoarse voice belonged to Harry but wasn’t coherent enough to be sure – nor was he quite ready to open his eyes or sit up long enough to check.

“Yeah,” Harry grunted, “s’ me. Sorry… can you stop… pressing… your face so hard into my stomach… or last night will be…” Harry grunted again, “regurgitating over both of us.”

 _Pressing his face into his stomach…?_ Louis frowned and gently patted his pillow. To his surprise, instead of feeling spongy softness, his hand patted the firm outline of hard ribs and the soft loose material of a t-shirt. It was then he realised, belatedly, he must be actually be lying on Harry’s chest. _What the hell_? He sat up quickly and immediately regretted it as the pounding in his head increased two fold and he gagged as the world seemed to rotate unpleasantly. Amazingly he didn’t throw up though and it took him a few long moments to feel brave enough to stop pinching the bridge of his nose and crack his eyes open. “What the hell happened?” He groaned before blinking rapidly as his eyes took in his surroundings. He felt unsteady and there was still a faint trace of a buzz in his system which told him he was still a little drunk – probably at the awkward edge of sobering where the hangover was reaching its full power while the last vestiges of alcohol valiantly tried to counteract it.   
It took his eyes a moment to adjust to the dim light of the room. When they did, he tensed up instantly with a awful sinking feeling. Okay, they were definitely not in a hotel room. For one he was lying on the floor on what seemed to be the thinnest mattress known to man. Also he could make out white painted brick walls surrounding them and, as he squinted across the room there was a heavy door with peep holes, firmly shut. With great trepidation, he craned his neck around to above their heads and saw a thick mullioned window high up on the wall, letting in a small amount of grey morning light. He could barely form the words such was his incredulity, “Harry… are we in a police cell?”

“Yep.”

 

~*~

 

Between his own vague memories and Harry’s, Louis managed to piece enough of the night’s mortifying events together to pray that most of it remained a black out. He was also going to kill Niall.

Up until one o’clock in the morning he could recall pretty well. After a crawl of about fifteen bars, the forty-strong, very wobbly, stag party had dispersed itself between the three floors of The Workman’s Club. The First Floor was having a cheesy disco themed night and Harry had been drawn to it like a moth to a flame. Louis had followed obediently at his heels while Zayn just pulled a face and dragged Liam away up to the ‘cooler’ third floor, where the music was the latest cutting edge RnB and Hip Hop. Four pub stops ago, Louis might have gone up there too but he was past the ability to not immediately acquiesce to Harry’s puppy eyes. After downing two shots at the bar, something blue and zappy that sizzled their nerves, Harry literally dragged Louis onto the dance floor amid the opening strains of Kung Fu Fighting. Everything grew hazy after that. He could remember dancing, very _very_ bad dancing at that, and possibly… stripping? No, that was later, outside where Niall and Sean were jousting with traffic cones. He had felt too hot – burning up from the inside - and Phil Lynott had looked so cold… and there was a pretty good chance his coat was still keeping a statue warm on Harry Street. Oh boy, did he remembered Harry Street and Harry skipping around _his_ street bestowing fruity titles to everyone. Louis was sure he was given the title of Earl Fruit Salad because… something about him being too special just to be a single fruit. Okay… Then there was the river… he was sure remembered something to do with riding a railing and then… re-enacting Titanic on a… giant rabbit? Then there was possibly more stripping and a jetty and… swimming? Yes, swimming. He remembered seagulls floating past him, their dark eyes silently laughing. _Oh god_ , had he gone swimming in the Liffey? Automatically he patted himself down to fell if he was damp only… that wasn’t the shirt he’d been wearing…

He looked down at himself; he was wearing an oversized t-shirt that said… **Garda**. _Oh shit_. He was in a police cell and wearing police clothing; he was in so much trouble.

“What was it that got us arrested in the end?” He asked in a small voice, not entirely certain he wanted to know.” He turned around and looked down at Harry who seemed to be lying down on the floor, perpendicular to himself, on a folded blanket.

“Not sure,” Harry mumbled, “I think it might have been us swimming naked in the river or… it could have been some of the others pretending they were in Pirates of the Caribbean. I think they hijacked a few rowing boats. To be honest, I don’t really recall it very well. I think I may still be rather drunk.”

Louis whimpered. There was no way that kind of behaviour would not have attracted attention. “Do you think there is any small chance, _any_ small chance,” he whined quietly, “that the media haven’t got wind of our antics last night?”

“If they haven’t then it would be the miracle of the century,” Harry grunted, then he paused and muttered, “you alright? You were shivering in your sleep.”

Almost as though Harry’s words were divinity, Goosebumps raced up Louis’s arms and he shuddered violently, which in turn made his head pound all the more. “Quite chilly in here,” he admitted, rubbing his arms in attempt to warm them up.

“Want my shirt?” Harry asked, running a hand soothingly down the small of Louis’s back.

“But then you’ll be cold,” Louis sighed, “why don’t we just squeeze up on the mattress and put the blanket over us both?”

“Um…” the hesitancy in Harry’s voice was quite surprising and Louis met Harry’s gaze with a frown. Even hungover and/or still slightly drunk, he could read so much in Harry’s eyes and the amount of vulnerability there broke his heart. Harry didn’t trust himself to not have a reaction to their close proximity – an anxiety probably heightened by Louis’s earlier confession.

“It’s okay,” he found himself saying as he slowly crawled off the mat and pushed it round towards Harry’s body.

Harry sighed and rolled onto the mat, balancing on the edge on his side and holding out an arm for Louis to join him. They didn’t fit. The mat was too narrow. Wiggling around with a thumping head was not fun and eventually Harry groaned “fuck it” and rolled onto his back and with astonishing strength pulled Louis over on top of him so that they were chest to chest with Louis’s head tucked under Harry’s chin. He then threw the blanket on top of them both an pulled it snug. Too tired and hungover to have the energy to stress over the possible consequences of this, Louis closed his eyes and relaxed into the warmth. However, he couldn’t quite leave it at that as he felt Harry’s arms sneak around his back, cuddling him closer. “This is possibly the cheesiest move I’ve seen from you yet,” he mumbled, burying his cold nose into Harry’s shirt and breathing in the scent of stale cologne and booze and _Harry_ \- finding it an oddly comforting mix. “Totally taking advantage the situation.”

“I thought the cheesiest thing I’ve ever done was sending flowers at work?” Harry mumbled back as he nuzzled his cheek into Louis’s hair.

Louis froze in disbelief, “That was _you_?” he squeaked. About four years ago, the Sun had run an article about why crushing on him was probably the worst thing a woman could do. The Sun was one of those ridiculous media outlets who treated ever dpd like an actual date and had he down as a right player. Laughable really. While there was plenty of truth in the matter of him being a bad date choice – like how there were never any second dates and how he was married to his work – Louis had been pretty upset by the very public jibe. He had even voiced as much on Twitter (back when he actually used the site more than once every six months). In return he’d been flooded by support and date offers. Then, shortly after lunch, Ellie from the reception desk had toddled up to the lab with a huge bunch of roses for him. The card had simply read ‘jealousy is an ugly thing – you were my best date ever’ with no name of sender. His subsequent Twitter post about the sweet gesture became one of the top ten retweeted posts of all time with the hashtag #romanceisntdead.

“Uh…” Harry, from the way he was suddenly holding himself still, was clearly blushing, Louis found it delightfully endearing, “I guess I um..uh… must not have mentioned that then?”

Louis, despite feeling like shit, couldn’t help but giggle at that and pressed his face into Harry’s shirt, “No you didn’t, you absolute goofball,”

“Sorry,” Harry chuckled in a throaty rasp, “I thought it was obvious that it was me. Overblown gestures like that are my signature – or so you keep telling me.”

Louis huffed out an amused breath and tilted his chin up to try and peer up at his friend. He could only make out his chin and nose from his prone position though, “You know,” he said quietly, “you need to find yourself a proper partner and stop wasting all that sweet romance on me. I’m not worthy of it and someone is missing out on the perfect boyfriend.” He was expecting a modest negation or a flirty retort, because that’s how Harry rolled, but this time none came. Surprised, Louis lifted his head up higher and moved until he was propped up on one arm and hovering over Harry’s head. He was immediately swept away but the amount of frustration and adoration warring across his friend’s face.   
Harry’s brilliant green eyes were a storm of fear and determination and affection. He looked Louis dead in the eye and rumbled, “I’ll keep wasting time until I know for certain that you will never take me seriously.”

Louis blinked and then his heart started thudding so fast it was almost overtook the pounding in his head. Here, in a cold, quiet, police cell, while they were both suffering with hangovers from hell, Harry had finally just made a serious pass. After all the years upon years of joking and teasing about having a crush he was finally admitting his feelings were very real. Louis’s chest tightened to the point he could barely breathe and his arms started trembling in effort to keep him up, “ _Haz_ ,” he whispered desperately.

“Sorry,” Harry mumbled, lowering his eyes, “it’s just, sometimes I get tired of pretending it’s all a joke.” He looked back up, apologetic, “I really like you… am probably half in love with you actually,” he chuckled sheepishly and Louis heart skipped a couple of beats, “and I just worry that you might never consider it properly because you think I’m not entirely serious.”   
Louis’s insides twisted guiltily as Harry seemed to grow more and more bashful by the second. Here was this utterly gorgeous and genuine man with a heart of gold, telling him he was half in love with him. Most sensible people would grab Harry and run so why was Louis just holding there like an absolute twat, doing nothing? Had Eleanor really messed him up that much? He felt a stab of resentment at the mere thought of her having something over him and it was that defiance to allow her that power that had him lowering his head down for a determined kiss. Except his lips met warm rough cheek as an almighty clank behind them made them both jump out their skin. Heart in his throat, Louis quickly slid off Harry’s abdomen just as the door swung open.

“Gid mornin’ tae ya love birds,” a thick Irish accent greeted them, “my, don’t you two look sorry fer ye’ selves. Feelin’ rough? I’m not surprised after the antics you were up to earlier this mornin’.”

Louis blushed hard and mumbled, “Sorry sir,” as a gentle-faced officer of the Garda stood in the doorway, jangling his keys and staring down at them.

“Disturbing the peace, drunk and disorderly, debasing city artwork, unlicensed street entertainment, public nudity, propositioning officers of the law… you had a very busy night.” Both Harry and Louis blushed and shrunk in on themselves in shame and contrition, “Ach,” the officer waved a hand, “you two were pretty funny to be honest - gave us a right laugh so we’ll not be pressing charges this time around. We only locked you up for your own safety – I mean, swimming in the Liffey in October, I tell you, it’s lucky you didn’t catch your death of cold! I can’t promise that your antics won’t make it onto Caught on Camera but right now you’ve at least escaped the press.” Both Harry and Louis sighed a deep breath of relief. “You’ll also be pleased to know your clothes have now dried,” the officer added, nodding towards Louis, who blushed even harder. “I guess now ye’ll be wantin’ some food to soak up some of that juice?”

Louis gagged at the mere thought of eating, “Um… could I just have a glass of water please?” He asked meekly.

The man guffawed heartily, “Yeah sure, what about you lad?” He asked Harry.

“Um… can I have the same?” Harry squeaked.

“In that case, get your arses up off the floor and you can have a drink while we get you discharged.”

As they tidied up the thin bedding and walked towards the door, Louis couldn’t muster up the courage to catch Harry’s eye. The arrival of the officer had been like a bucket of cold water and he was now realising what a stupid thing he’s just been about do. He had not been about to kiss Harry for the right reasons and that was not fair on Harry. He shouldn’t play about with his friend’s feelings like that. Knowing that Harry would want to address the situation back in the cell Louis knew he had to get out of there fast. He had to think. He had to rationalise what had just almost happened. He had to know what he truly wanted to do from here on - for Harry’s sake as much as his own. As he jogged down the front steps out onto the busy street, he tried not to think about the gutted expression on Harry’s face as he’d ignored his plea to wait. Rubbing his eyes, he hurried down the street to grab a taxi – determined to get back to the hotel and check out before Harry caught him up. Yeah, he was acting like a coward but it was for their own good – or at least that’s what he told himself.

 

~*~

 

Of all the times Louis had selfishly wished Cole was not away on tour, now was it. He really needed to talk to someone about what had happened with Harry – he needed help to put it in perspective. So, after he’d left work on Monday, he went straight to the next best person after Cole.

With one hand operating the door and the other holding Harley back by the collar, Amelia beamed as she realised it was Louis standing on her doorstep. A few seconds later her smile dropped as she registered Louis’s miserable expression. “Oh boy,” she sighed, stepping back, “come on in, love, and I’ll make us a brew.” She left him to close the door behind himself. Once he’d done so, Louis quickly toed off his shoes, gave the dog a brief pet hello before following Amelia in the direction of the kitchen. A clatter of toenails and an excited yip signalled Harley was attempting to follow too and struggling to find traction on the polished wooden floor. As he passed the doorway to the living room, Louis stopped in surprise. The room was in darkness - only the glowing standby lights of the TV, DVD player and Stereo were visible, like little eyes in a dark cave. He stared for a moment trying to remember the last time he’d been here and the living room had not been the hub of some kind of activity. If Amelia wasn’t in there pasting things to her mood-boards or hanging out with her friends, Cole would be watching TV or playing Grand Theft with some of the lads, usually himself. For only having two official occupants, this house had always seemed to be busy – the natural gathering place for the people in Amelia and Cole’s circles. Louis hadn’t been immune. Many a time he had woken up on one of the couches, drooling into the golden tassels of one of the throw cushions; lightly hungover after a long night of beer and gaming. It was virtually his home away from home and to see it now, with the lights off, made him feel uncomfortable, like he was in a stranger’s house. Come to think of it, everything about the house was weird; it was too quiet, too cold, too… lifeless – maybe that’s why Amelia had turned the lights off in the hub – it probably felt too weird sitting in there when Cole was two and a half thousand miles away.

Swallowing away the unsavoury thoughts of just what horrors his friend might be facing at that exact moment, Louis turned and swiftly continued down the hallway. The kitchen, unlike the living room, was an unexpected bright sanctuary and clearly where Amelia had been spending her time. In the four weeks since he’d last paid a visit the wallpaper had changed from a sultry grey silk to a popping red flower pattern. While a little jarring at first, Louis found he quite liked it; it was cheerful and that was a mood he kind of needed right now.   
He took a seat at the cluttered kitchen table and had a squint at what Amelia had been working on. Material samples, cut-outs, sketches and colour palettes littered the table-top – all of them with a very modern and uber-natural theme. Very carefully he moved a few of the scraps to the side so there would be a small clear space for his cup. He didn’t want to ruin anything with an unfortunate ring mark.

Harley, assured that he wasn’t going to miss Amelia opening the treat cupboard, trotted over and rested his head on Louis’s lap – staring up at him with big hopeful brown eyes. Chuckling, Louis leant forward and rubbed him gently behind the ears. “Hey boy,” he said fondly, “how are you doing?” Harley closed his eyes and preened happily into the petting. Louis stroked his head and down his neck, smoothing back the soft auburn fur affectionately.

“English Breakfast or Afternoon?” Amelia asked over her shoulder.

“English Breakfast please,” he decided after a moment. Looking over, he fondly watched as she set about dropping teabags in to two mugs. Today her light brown locks were tied up in a loose bun, pinned together with what looked like pens, and she was dressed casually in a navy blue tunic over a pair of black leggings. It was a cute maternity look. Her belly was well rounded now and she had to turn to the side to fit up to the countertop. However, he knew better than to offer to help. She was pregnant; not ill, he had gotten the memo a few weeks ago. “How are you feeling?” he asked instead, momentarily feeling guilty about it not being his first question. “Perrie mentioned you were struggling with morning sickness on Thursday.”

“Cleared up over the weekend,” she replied cheerfully. “Fingers crossed but I may just be over the worst now. Trust me to have it well into late pregnancy.”

“Yeah, that sucks,” Louis nodded sympathetically, “my mum only had it occasionally with me and Fizz but she was really bad with Lottie and the twins – uh, the first twins that is,” he corrected himself quickly, wincing as he felt another stab of guilt at the reminder of his lack of involvement with his new siblings. “She had morning sickness right up to the end with them.”

“Yeah, that’ll not be happening with me,” Amelia declared, “I’ve made a pact with my body that if it stops now then I won’t go on a crazy diet straight after the birth.”

Louis laughed, “Good luck with that one. Have you heard from Cole this week?”

“No, not since that quick call two weeks ago but he did say it might be a while before the next one. He promised to send a letter though.”

Louis smiled, Cole’s letters always had a special message for everyone in them, which Amelia would share in a group text. His usual message to Louis consisted along the lines of ‘stop working so hard’, ‘got a new strategy for level 3 – be ready for battle when I get back’ and ‘missing you so much mate – got nobody to talk New Horizons with and it’s killing me.’  
The kettle finished boiling and Amelia filled the cups before adding a dash of milk to Louis’s and a squeeze of lemon to her own. She carried them over, handing one to Louis before taking a seat opposite and clearing a small space for her mug with a swipe of her forearm. It was a form of efficiency Louis admired.

“So,” she said, putting her mug down and steepling her hands under her chin, he gaze was shrewd, “how was Ireland?”

Louis sighed and stared down into the dark milky brown of the steaming mug, She had hit the nail on the head in a one-er. “Honestly?” He croaked, “It was…” _Weird? Crazy? Scary? Life changing?_ “Confusing.”

Amelia raised an eyebrow, “Confusing? Okay…” she said slowly, “that’s different. Care to expand?”

“Yeah…” Louis took a cautious sip of his tea, wincing as it burned his tongue. He thought over his next words carefully. “Have you… have you ever had a moment that’s made you stop and reconsider if everything you thought you knew about yourself could actually be wrong?”

Amelia pursed her lips, “Depends on what level you’re talking about? I guess I kind of did some soul searching when I first found out Cole was a soldier. It certainly made me face up to the reality of my Dad’s death and how much I was letting it dictate my life. But if you’re talking personally, then, no, I’ve never really found that I’ve misunderstood who I am inside.” She tilted her head to the side, regarding him carefully, “I can’t tell whether that was the answer you wanted to hear or not.”

Louis chuckled wryly and took another cautious sip of his tea. “To be honest,” he shrugged, “it was about what I was expecting considering how vague I was.”

She offered him a small encouraging smile and cranked up the sympathy, “I’m guessing your ‘moment’ was a personal one, then?”

“Yeah… it was.” He cleared his throat and focused down at the table, absently tracing a knot in the wood. “When you first met me… or even since then… have you ever thought I might not be straight?”

Amelia immediately choked on her tea and after a short bout of coughing she wiped her chin with her hand and set him with a wide-eyed look that had him blushing. “Okay, wow,” she croaked after a long moment, “I… uh… of all the things I was prepared for you to ask, that was not it.” She raised an eyebrow, “In all honestly I can’t really remember what my first impression was of you and the years have probably shaped my current assumptions. I mean… you’ve been celibate for many years now and I only remember you having one relationship with a woman but you’ve never shown any interest in guys – as poor Harry has mourned over for years... The fact that you’ve never taken Harry up on his crush… well I just assumed it was because you were straight...” she trailed off, looking at him with a sad curiosity that showcased her genuine concern. “Oh Lou… do you want to tell me about why this is something that’s just come up? Has this got something to do with the weekend?”

He nodded, “Sort of. To be honest, there’s not much to tell. Eleanor turned up on my doorstep just I was leaving for the airport on Saturday. We had a bit of a barny over me attending her wedding and she left pretty quickly. I went to Ireland pretty angry at her nerve and also a bit depressed at the reminder of what a failure my own romantic life is these days. Anyway, I buried those feelings in booze and had a hell of a party with the guys – as I’m sure you now know. We were so drunk that we got into a few misguided hijinks and found ourselves locked up in a Garda cell for our own safety.” He blushed hard at that admission. Once, when he was a young troubled teenager, he might have boasted about that sort of thing; now he was just embarrassed at himself.

“ _Oh yeah_ ,” Amelia chuckled, “I’ve been filled in on that. Although, I’m most disappointed I didn’t get to see you all behind bars – _especially_ you and Harry. Neither of you are exactly the jailbird types – way too soft.”

“Hey,” Louis protested, “I could survive prison! I have resources…”

“Sure sweetie,” Amelia teased, “I’m sure the other prisoners would agree too. Is that what prompted this? Did the thought of being a prison bitch turn you on?”

Louis inhaled his tea and spent the next two minutes coughing hot Twinnings out of his lungs, “ _No_ but thanks for that terrifying image!” He choked out before shuddering violently. If he was at all in to men in general then it was clear he had a type and that type was not a hulky criminal thug. “I don’t really remember much about being _detained_ , I just remember waking up really early in a cell with…” he hesitated before settling on, “this bloke.”

“And does _this bloke_ have a name?” Amelia asked, with a cheeky waggle of her eyebrows.

“ _Yes_ ,” Louis huffed. “I _assume_ so since it’s a legal requirement.”

“Ooh,” Amelia pulled out an invisible notepad and made a gesture at writing in it, “when questioned, the suspect was touchy about releasing the associates name, suggesting it’s someone we both know.” Louis rolled his eyes but kept quiet which had Amelia snorting quietly, “Go on, then. You were put in a cell with _this bloke_ and…?”

“We were both in that awkward transition of still being a bit drunk yet terribly hung-over and it was really early in the morning and neither of us was thinking clearly,” Louis explained quietly, cutting out about ninety percent of the story. Amelia didn’t say anything though, seemingly non-plussed and clearly waiting for more. Louis cleared his throat, growing even more uncomfortable, “he admitted he had really liked me for some time now and because I was feeling a bit maudlin about my romantic life thanks to El turning up and… um… if the guard hadn’t interrupted us… I think… I think I might have kissed him?”

“Ah… I see,” said Amelia softly, “and now you’re confused as to whether you’re actually interested in guys or whether it was weird one-off moment brought on by drinking too much and your maudlin mood?”

Louis winced, “Well yes and no. I’ve kind of had the odd crush on a guy before so I know I’m interested in them. My issue is; Eleanor left me with uh… _intimacy issues_ …” he flushed hard, “and I really like the guy but I don’t want to lead him on when I might not be able to give him all he wants.”

“Hmm,” Amelia sat back in her chair, “have you ever had issues with a bloke before? Could it just be women?” This was the second person to ask him that.

“I don’t know. I’ve only ever kissed a guy, never gone further, but I know I definitely have issues with women.”

“How long has it been since you kissed the guy?”

“Um…” Louis blushed hard, “it was actually earlier this year. Different guy to the one I nearly kissed in Dublin though.”

Amelia deserved an award for not so much as twitching at the admission. “Okay,” she hummed thoughtfully, “so focusing on Ireland, how do you feel now that you’re sober? Are you glad you didn’t kiss him or do you regret the missed opportunity?”

“Honestly?” Louis worried his lip uncertainly, thinking about it, how did he feel? He tried to imagine what it would have been like to kiss Harry but couldn’t quite picture it. Seven years was a long time to go without kissing virtually anyone - let alone use that historical time as a guide to kissing someone of a different gender. “A mixture of both I think,” he settled on. “I… I’m kind of glad it didn’t because it means I don’t have to deal with the fact that it did but then… I can’t help wonder what it would have been like had we done it and that kind of bugs me too…”

“I see. Hmm…” she paused for a moment, clearly mulling everything over. “Okay…” she said eventually, “tell me, how do you feel about this guy?”

Louis’s mind conjured Harry up without any effort and he instantly felt himself begin to grin. Goofy, smiley, floppy haired Harry; Louis couldn’t ever not grin when it came to him.

“Actually I think your expression says everything,” Amelia chuckled. “You look like Pepe le Pew. Put those heart eyes away.”

“What do you think I should do now? He’s going to know what I was intending on kissing him and I don’t want to hurt him by leading him on but I don’t want to let something go by because I’m too scared about my issues getting in the way.”

Amelia looked at him long and hard, “Well, to be bull’s pizzle frank about this, you have four options.” She ticked them off on her fingers, “One, you can ignore the ‘almost kiss’ and hope it doesn’t happen again. Two, you can calmly carry on with your life but slowly test out the waters. Three, you can be proactive and find a guy to go beyond kissing with and see if it triggers your issues. Or, four, you can be really brave and talk to the guy you nearly kissed and see what he has to say on the _whole_ situation.”

Louis swallowed thickly, feeling nauseous at the mere thought of talking to Harry about that night in the cell – especially after the way he’d just left like a bat out of hell right after.

“What if I don’t like any of those?” He asked in a small voice.

She shrugged, “You don’t have to like them; you just have to do one of them.”

Louis flopped down onto the table dramatically, letting his forehead rest on the cool wood. “Ugh… I hate life sometimes.”

“Just think about those options,” she encouraged, sipping calmly at her tea. “You don’t have to make a choice right now.”

“Right okay…” He sat back up and blinked blearily in her direction, “thanks though.”

“Any time babe, and please let me know what you decide. I love a good romance story.”

He nodded and gulped down the last few mouthfuls of his tea. It was still rather hot and he felt it slide all the way down to his stomach.

“Oh, since you’re here and all,” Amelia added casually, which Louis immediately recognised as her ‘could you do me a little favour’ telltale starter. “Can you take a look at my washing-machine? It’s been making a terrible thudding sound recently, especially on the wash cycle.”

Louis rolled his eyes, “I have a PhD in Biomedical Engineering,” he drawled, “and have designed some of the most cutting edge medical equipment in the world and yet my friends reduce it to fixing their household appliances.”

Amelia shot him a sharkish grin, “Think about it as reimbursement for a decade’s worth of free teas, breakfasts, parental advice and hangover cures.”

“Fair enough,” Louis replied easily, “show me where the tools are kept.”

 

~*~

 

It only took Louis ten minutes to fix the washing machine – which had only required a tightening of one of the weights – and he mulled carefully over Amelia’s words as he walked home. She was right, he determined, he really did only have four options. The question was; which one did should he chose? He weighed them up in his head and by the time he had the key in the front door he was toying desperately between option 2 and 4. Carry on as per normal but remain observant on his future actions or be brave and talk to Harry about it? As he stepped inside the house his gaze was immediately drawn to the shadow on the stairs. For a second his heart raced in horror at the thought of an intruder but then his eyes locked with brilliant green and he froze solid. When Harry had gotten back in to London Louis didn’t know but he sure had an overpowering inkling of _why_ he was back so unexpected.   
Harry stared back at him, looking both a little bit terrified and yet utterly determined. And in that moment, Louis knew exactly what path he had to take. Honesty. Pure honesty.

“I’ve had a crush on your for so long I can’t even remember when it started.” The words tumbled out unbidden and childish but he didn’t retract them. He watched Harry’s eyes widen in surprise and felt himself starting to shake with nerves. “I’ve kissed a man before,” he pushed on, voice trembling, and not knowing where the words were coming from or where his speech was taking him, “and I enjoyed it but it was only once and I don’t think you can base anything about yourself on one event. I’m… I’m telling you this because I don’t want to give you false hope but I also don’t want to lie to you either. There’s a good chance I may not be entirely straight but it’s not something I’m certain of yet.” For a moment the verbal diarrhoea sat heavy between them – an emotional mess and a conversational navigational hazard. Louis waited with bated breath for Harry to say something. His heart was pounding in his chest and ears and sweat had broken out on his brow.

Harry slowly stood up, expression completely unreadable. Louis tensed. Then Harry was walking over towards him but Louis didn’t dare move. He didn’t dare blink. Even if he had wanted to he probably couldn’t have anyway. He was rooted to the spot and his heart was in his throat - beating so hard it felt like his whole body was throbbing with each pulse. Harry kept walking towards him, closer than talking distance, closer than touching distance, until they were nearly toe to toe and Louis was looking up – up into blazing hunger. Heat exploded in his lower stomach and his dick twitched for the first time in over seven years. But before he could celebrate that amazing return his back was hitting the door and Louis barely a moment to catch his breath before his face was being clamped in strong hands and warm damp lips were smushing against his own. He squeaked, tensed up and then went limp as Harry drew his bottom lip into his mouth and sucked for all his worth. Pleasure exploded in Louis’s lower abdomen and his toes curled reflexively inside his shoes. Harry’s lips were so soft and his breath sweet with a hint of mint. It was weird and different and yet familiar at the same time. The light stubble around Harry’s mouth, something Louis had often wondered about, scratched lightly against the corners of his mouth and it felt oddly electric. But then, just as he was loosing himself in all the wonderful sensations, Harry pulled away abruptly, panting. “Did that make you feel anything?” He demanded.

Louis could do little else but nod numbly.

Harry let out a small keening noise and dove in for another kiss and Louis was ready this time. He kissed back for all his worth, digging his hands into Harry’s curls to hold him steady as their mouths worked together. It was hot, it was thrilling and Louis didn’t feel an ounce of panic – not even when Harry pulled their bodies in tight and Louis could feel every inch of his body. With every second Harry seemed to grow ever more desperate; his hands grabbing Louis all over, his lips nipping and sucking relentlessly, his breath coming in greater and greater gasps. Louis could feel the control between them slipping and he knew he had to ground them before anything got out of hand. Reluctantly he slid a hand down to Harry’s chest, pushing gently. It only made Harry cling tighter – as though afraid this would be his only chance of kissing him. Louis brought his other hand down and pushed him away with a firm shove. Harry staggered back a half step and it was like he was hit by a cold bucket of water. He went from instant confusion to distress in a fraction of a second. “Oh my god, sorry, sorry,” he apologised, raising his hands in surrender. Realising Harry was close to mistaking the reason for stopping, Louis grabbed his raised hands, locking his fingers around Harry’s wrists and quickly reassured, “no, no, it’s okay, it’s okay.” Harry stopped and swallowed before nodding. Louis sighed, “I only stopped because I didn’t want us to get carried away before we’ve talked about this properly.”

Harry straightened, “I’m listening,” he said obediently.

Louis shook his head fondly, “Okay, then you’ll hear and understand when I say that I’m worried about going down this road because I really don’t want to hurt you. There are some things I’m just not ready for, that I don’t know if I’ll ever be ready for-”

“Yeah I know,” Harry cut in, “ you told me earlier and it’s okay.”

“It’s really _not_ okay though,” Louis pressed, worried Harry wasn’t taking this seriously enough. “It’s not fair on you that I… I have intimacy issues and-” Harry suddenly put a hand over Louis’ mouth and shushed him gently.

“I know,” he said softly and with enough meaning to have the hairs rising on Louis’s back, “I _know_ and I don’t care. Christ,” he chuckled nervously, “You don’t seem to realise just how gone I am for you. For ten, almost eleven, years all I’ve done is yearn for you. I’ve dreamed of nothing but holding you and kissing you, making a home with you and growing old with you and if you grant me that and never anything more then I’ll still die the happiest man in the world.”

“How can you say that when we’ve never-” Louis began to protest but closed his mouth when Harry snorted and shook his head like Louis was the daftest thing since bacon scented soap. “You _really_ don’t get it, do you? I _love_ you. I am head over heels for you and have been for almost as long as I haven’t. There’s literally nobody else in the world I can possibly be interested in. You’re like concrete – you’ve filled my heart to the brim and it’s so hard and impenetrable that I cannot fit anybody else in. It’ll take dynamite to remove you.” His voice cracked a little, “I gave up on others a long time ago, Lou. I know that sounds mental – Christ, all our friends have been telling me I’m mental for years and me telling you this is not meant to pressure you into giving me what I want. I just want you to understand that when I say I don’t care about limitations, I really mean it. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve tried dating others before but there was no escaping the fact that each time I was just settling for second best. In the back of my head I was always looking over my shoulder hoping and praying that at some point you would miraculously fall for me too… and that was not fair on the person I was dating. Consequently, I stopped dating… I… I haven’t had a proper relationship since I was nineteen.” He swallowed hard as Louis took the moment’s pause to let all that sink in. He felt stunned. Overwhelmed at just what Harry had admitted to. Sure, he had known Harry had had a crush on him – had known there was a huge possibility he was in love with him, but he hadn’t realised that those feelings had influenced his life so much. It was hard to take in, to comprehend, and it made him feel… guilty? Guilty that he had not realised Harry’s feelings were so deep, guilty that he may have unwittingly hurt his friend by making light of it, guilty that even now he wasn’t entirely able to give Harry everything he wanted. Because he wanted to; he wanted to make Harry happy – nothing had ever made him happier than being the one to make Harry smile brighter than the sun.

“Oh Hazza,” he croaked, reaching out to cup Harry’s cheek. “Why haven’t you ever told me this before?”

“Because I was scared,” Harry mumbled. “It’s one thing to know you’re not likely to have a chance and a completely different thing to be told you never will. I know it wasn’t – _isn’t_ – healthy to live on hope alone, to dream and forget to live, but I couldn’t see any other way to deal with it.”

Louis swallowed hard, “To be honest, I’m not sure what I would have done if you had told me. I mean I knew you had feelings but I didn’t realise they were that big.”

Harry chuckled sheepishly and looked down at the floor, scratching the back of his neck, “Yeah…”

“I feel selfish now,” Louis admitted, “I never once asked, I never once checked to see if you were okay. I never sat down and talked about it with you properly. I’ve had so much power and influence over your life and I never knew – I never took the time to find out.”

“It wasn’t on you to ask,” Harry replied, “it was on me to tell you and I was too much of a coward.”

Louis licked his lips and smiled softly, “we’re both at fault I guess…” he shook his head in disbelief as he refocused on what Harry had said previously, “you really haven’t dated since you were nineteen?” He found it had to comprehend. Sure, Harry had never brought it into Louis’s life and certainly never back to their shared home but he had always thought Harry had had dates. Louis had just figured it was something they didn’t talk about. Now he knew it was because there was nothing to talk about. Reaching out he took Harry’s hand and pulled him over to the stairs and sat down. It was a bit of a tight squeeze considering they were both grown men and the stairs were less than a metre wide.

“I really haven’t,” Harry admitted, “it’s been six years since I’ve kissed someone except on a professional level because if it isn’t you then it just isn’t worth the emotional hassle. It’s been even longer since I’ve had sex and, you know what? The absence has been surprisingly easy. Society and media really has warped people into believing that unless you’re having sex regularly then they or their relationship isn’t healthy. I actually don’t miss it. I was more the foreplay and cuddling after guy anyway.”

“But you’ve mentioned meeting people and going on dates and… I don’t know, just made it seem like you have a sex life. Why insinuate that if it isn’t true?”

“I embellished a bit,” Harry sighed, “because I didn’t want people getting on my back about it even more than they already were.” He huffed out a breath in amusement, “Our friends have been quite vocal, over the years, in their attempts to get me to move on from you. To them not only were you celibate but you were also completely straight and they thought I was wasting away my life away for no reason. I found if I hinted about dating around then they relaxed a bit.” He chuckled throatily, “You should have heard Zayn and Liam when I moved in here though. They made out I was going to get heartbroken beyond repair.”

“I know they were only looking out for you but I’m glad you didn’t listen to them,” said Louis softly. “I’ve loved every second of having you here.” He hesitated then figured he ought to be honest, just as Harry had been with him so far. “I should also remind you that I’m not just suddenly discovering I may have feelings for you. I’ve known I’ve had feelings that aren’t entirely platonic for years. You’re an easy person to love, Haz, and I bet you’re an easy person to fall in love with too. I just never thought I could have a proper relationship again because of my intimacy issues. It’s why I have never said anything to you before - I don’t want to hurt you by not being everything you want and need. Even now, I’m a little worried that you’ve built me up into this enhanced version of myself that I’m actually not-”

“Lou,” Harry cut in gently, “how can I build you up into something you’re not when everything I know and love about you I’ve pretty much learned first hand? Hmm?” He chuckled and knocked their knees together. “Don’t think I don’t know you have flaws.”

“Flaws? Me?” Louis feigned hurt.

“So you don’t call ridiculously smelly feet a flaw?” Harry teased. “Or your scary aversion of things being left to soak in the sink?” At the mere mention of things being left in the sink Louis went hot and started to tense up. When it came to weird pet peeves he had a few major ones and nothing got him in a rage quicker than the sink thing. He couldn’t explain it. It was irrational but he had been known to throw the washing-up liquid across the room in a flash meltdown upon seeing something sitting in there. Harry had only made that mistake once – back when he’d been in Uni – and it had shocked him enough to never repeat it. However, he did get some entertainment when other people encountered it.

“Those are just intriguing aspects of my personality,” Louis sniffed airily.

Harry chuckled low and rumbly, “Of course, how silly of me.”

Louis turned his head and smiled at him, feeling warmth surge in his chest as Harry did the same back, his eyes soft and adoring, utterly gorgeous. Louis felt a heady compulsion to kiss him again so… he did. Gentle and lingering, their lips moving slowly and tenderly. Louis felt his stomach swoop like he’d almost taken a misstep down the stair.

“I could get used to that,” he mumbled against Harry’s lips, sighing in content.

Harry pulled back, grinning crookedly, and blushed as he looked down at his lap. Louis’s throat tightened as reality washed down on him again, “I’ve never been in a relationship with a man before. I don’t really know what to do, I don’t know how to...”

Harry cut him off again, “In all honesty, I’m not exactly that well versed either,” he admitted. “It’s one thing to be gay; it’s a whole other issue to actually practice the physicality of it. But this is me, you _know_ me – we’re ninety percent living like a couple already so nothing major has to change between us. And we can go as slow as you need for as long as you need.” He swallowed thickly, “Let me take you out on a date – let me woo you a little. If you don’t feel comfortable then we can stop. Just say the word.”

Louis felt torn, “I just don’t want to hurt you,” he whispered. “Like I said before, I don’t want to end up not being everything you want me to be.”

“I just want you to be you,” Harry insisted, eyes pleading with him to say yes. “The person you’ve always been – the one I fell in love with way back in high school.”

“But you’re so far ahead of me in all of this…” Louis worried, knowing he couldn’t possibly repeat Harry’s heavy words and mean them just yet.

“Louis,” Harry chuckled, cupping his face in the huge warm hands, “I’m not expecting you to start declaring your undying love or anything any time soon. I just want you to give me a chance – to give _us_ a chance to see whether we could make it work. I’m not going to push you into doing anything you don’t want to do so forget about the intimacy thing. It isn’t important to me; well, it is in-so-far as how _you_ feel about it. And anyway, nobody knows if a relationship will work out long-term unless they try. Considering our history I’d like to think we’d be very good candidates for longevity. But don’t let my feelings scare you. Sure, I’ve wanted this for a years but I’m not expecting marriage or a lifetime commitment any time soon. What I _would_ like, though, is to be able to show you the affection I’ve always wanted to, to date you and woo you in the hope that in time that affection might be returned? If it doesn’t happen it doesn’t happen but at least I will know I tried and I might, finally, be able to move on and let you go.”

Louis took a deep breath; this was an ‘either jump or get off the diving board’ moment. He had to choose. Did he play it safe and miss out on possibly the best thing to ever happen to him or… did he gather his courage and plunge into the unknown headfirst? He closed his eyes… _yes no yes no yes no_ , “Okay.”

“What?” Harry replied stupidly.

“I said okay.” Louis bit down on a shaky smile as Harry struggled to take his words onboard. He looked a little shell-shocked.

Harry blinked again and then, slowly, his face began to morph into pure, emotional, elation. It was kind of beautiful, Louis thought, and knew immediately that he’d made the right choice. His own smile flourished and a second later he was laughing as Harry darted forward to press ridiculous kisses over his cheeks.

“Thank you,” Harry breathed, “You won’t regret this.” He cupped Louis’ face fondly. “I’ve got a feeling I won’t…” Louis chuckled, “but… for now, can we keep this between ourselves?” Harry looked at him sharply, almost wearily, and Louis quickly explained, “It’s not a closet thing, don’t worry, it’s just, I want to get comfortable with us in private rather than in the glaring limelight of media speculation and critical review. I also don’t want well meaning friends giving me advice that could confuse things further.”

Harry’s expression softened, “Yeah, no I get that. Okay. Not a problem. Anything else you would like to draw the line at?”

“Like what?” Louis asked, confused.

“What about pet names and things like that. How cheesy can I go?” Harry looked constipated as though he was crossing everything he had in hope Louis wouldn’t curtail any of that.

Louis burst out laughing, “ _Hazza_ , the main part of your persuasion to get me onboard was that nothing would change. You have been giving me obnoxious pet names since I was fifteen – I would hope you would carry on as normal.”

“Boo bear is not obnoxious!” Harry protested.

“It’s hideous.”

“It’s _cute_.”

“Not even close,” said Louis, starting to stand up.

“Hey, don’t go?” Harry pouted, making grabby hands.

Louis shrugged, stepping back down onto the hallway floor and stretching his back out, “As lovely as this has been, it’s Monday and I have shirts and trousers to iron for the rest of the week and underwear to put on for a wash. There’s also dinner to make and I was thinking about taking a pasta salad in for lunch tomorrow. After all that’s done then there’s a new episode of New Tricks on at 9 which I don’t want to miss.”

Harry sighed and stood up too, “Want a hand with dinner?”

Louis feigned surprise, “Do you have time? I thought you might be too busy planning our first date. You did say you wanted to woo me and as someone well accustomed to London’s finest restaurants, it’ll take a fair amount to impress me,” he teased.

Harry actually looked insulted. “I’ve crushed on you for ten years, do you honestly think I don’t already have a list of potential date itineraries the length of the M25?”

Louis just laughed and shook his head fondly, “Just keep it simple and uncomplicated for the first one, that’s my advice love.”

 

~*~

 

The next few days were odd. They were odd because it didn’t feel odd that everything was suddenly incredibly different between them and yet utterly the same. Getting up for work was the same, having breakfast with Harry was the same but being kissed on the cheek as he went out the front door (and not under the illusion of it being a joke) was different. It was nice. Very nice indeed. It kept Louis feeling warm as he walked the short, icy distance to the tube station.

Coming home after work was the same, chatting about their days over a cuppa was the same but Harry hugging him from behind as Louis cooked dinner was different. It was really nice.

Eating dinner together was the same, clearing up was the same but cuddling on the couch in front of the TV was different. The first time had been a bit stilted, both unsure of themselves and blushing hard as they slumped together, Harry’s arm around Louis’s shoulder but they soon relaxed into it.

True to his word, Harry was keeping his promise of taking it slow and keeping things pretty much the same as it always had been. Their teasing banter was the same, their routine was the same and their conversations were the same. The only difference was the increase in affection and Louis was finding he really enjoyed being on the receiving end of Harry’s affection. He was sweet and attentive and the frequent little kisses to his forehead and cheeks made him feel warm right down to his toes. Even his previous relationships, when at their highest points, hadn’t made him feel so happy and cherished with such a simple act. It made returning said affection really quite easy and natural. In fact, it was fast becoming one of Louis’s favourite activities because Harry blushed and bloomed every time. Knowing he was the one to cause it was fascinating and empowering and it made Louis want to do it even more. He thought it would be weird being romantic with Harry, Harry being a guy and all. But, in fact, it felt natural, like they’d been held back before like a partially blocked stream and now they were able to flow freely.    

It wasn’t until Friday that they got the chance for a date, of sorts. Harry picked Louis up from RLA at his usual finish of five and they had dinner together at the little Thai restaurant down the street. Louis finally met Nam, who was absolutely lovely and kindly sat them at a very private table near the back – well away from prying eyes. The dinner date was fun and easy and Harry was amazing company – even more than normal. He held Louis’s hand across the table and had him in hysterics one minute and biting his lip with overwhelming affection the next. When they left Louis knew his expression had to look ridiculously goofy but he found he actually didn’t care. This was the happiest he’d felt in so long.   
They returned to RLA and gathered their luggage before taking the train to Heathrow. It was Niall’s wedding tomorrow and they figured it would be safer to fly out tonight and stay in a hotel than fly tomorrow and risk any delay.

As per usual, Heathrow was busy and there was a bit of pointing and staring as folk recognised them – well they recognised Harry at least. As they waited in the baggage queue quite a crowd gathered around, asking for Harry’s autograph. Louis ended up dealing with the baggage all by himself and then stood patiently to the side as he waited for Harry to finish up. It wasn’t new – it happened quite regularly whenever they were out. As he entertained himself with an internal commentary on the sanity and backstory of everyone clamouring for Harry’s attention, a girl in her late teens approached him cautiously and he smiled at her warily. “Hi, are you Louis Tomlinson?” She asked, tugging nervously on her over-sized jumper.

“Yes I am,” Louis nodded, suddenly feeling a bit more wary. Was she nervous because he was well-known or was she nervous because she wanted to ask something possibly inappropriate about Harry?

She bit her lip and tucked a stray lock of thick brown hair behind her ear. “You and Harry live together, right?”

“Right,” said Louis cautiously.

“Is it true he only wears gold thongs?”

Louis burst out laughing before he could stop himself. It was so loud everyone in the vicinity turned to look at him – including Harry, who seemed fondly amused by his behaviour. “Um… no,” Louis squeaked out, not even able to imagine Harry in a gold thong, “he usually wears boxers…” He trailed off as he realised just how loaded that admission was. Did normal housemates know the details of each other’s underwear? _Shit_.

“Hi Louis,” another girl, slightly younger than the first, cut in, “could I have your autograph, please?”

“Mine?” Louis stuttered in surprise, “why on earth would you want mine?”

“You’re Harry’s best friend,” she said, as if this was a completely logical reason.

“Um…”

“Could I have an autograph too?” clamoured another girl, who couldn’t be more than five.

“And me,” said a third, who wore a pretty pink hijab over the most garish fluorescent pink Barbie dress he’d ever seen. It was so bright it hurt his eyes.

“Me too,” added in a forth girl, who had to be the sister of the third – only she was dressed in a less violent shade of blue. Her plea was echoed by a few more and, all of a sudden, Louis suddenly found himself surrounded by his own little crowd. Shifting awkwardly he gave them a blithe smile, not knowing what else to do.

“Hi girls,” Harry suddenly loomed up, giving Louis a reassuring smile as he stepped through the gaggle and put his arm firmly around his shoulder, “sorry but Louis’s a little shy.”

“He’s so pretty,” the littlest one sighed softly, like Louis was some kind of Disney princess, “even prettier than Zayn. No wonder you like him so much, Harry.”

Louis went red as Harry chuckled and bent down to the girl’s height, “Don’t tell Zayn but I completely agree,” he said in a conspiratorial whisper. “And do you know something else? Louis isn’t just pretty, he’s really, really kind too.”

The little girl’s eyes widened even more and Louis felt his cheeks grow hotter, “Do you think he’d let me take his picture?” she asked Harry earnestly.

“I think if you ask him nicely he will,” Harry nodded solemnly, “just don’t forget he’s quite shy so be careful with him.” And that was how Louis found himself taking selfies and group photos with random strangers for twenty minutes.

Afterwards, Harry gently and firmly led him away towards their gate. Louis was glad because he was finding it hard to see clearly after all the camera flashes.

“Thanks for that,” said Harry warmly in Louis’s ear, “and thank you for being so patient.”

“It’s fine,” Louis shrugged, “boyfriends should be supportive, shouldn’t they?”

Harry suddenly tripped up and Louis only just managed to stabilise him before they both hit the lino.

“ _Boyfriend_?” Harry squeaked and Louis blushed hard in realisation, letting go of Harry’s jacket to scratch the back of his head awkwardly. They hadn’t quite had that discussion yet.

“Well yeah,” he replied, shuffling awkwardly and hoping Harry would agree without much comment, “that’s what you are, isn’t it? Or would you prefer partner or significant other?”

“Um… any or all of the above,” said Harry breathlessly, looking like he’s just won the lottery twice over, “I just didn’t think you were ready for labels yet since we’ve technically only been on one date and we’re meant to be taking this slow.”

Louis bit his lip, “Well… for all intents and purposes you’ve been dating me for seven years – even if neither of us quite realised,” he shrugged. “I think that’s long enough to be sure we’re now in a serious relationship, yeah? Even if we are taking it slow.”

“Yeah,” said Harry slowly, eyes bright. “Yeah I really do.” He looked around to make sure nobody else was in the hallway and then kissed him softly on the lips – their first since Monday.

 

~*~

 

The weather forecast had said it would be dry and cloudy for the wedding but it ended up raining the full day, which was an absolute shame. Still, it was a lovely wedding – quite casual and funny and _very_ Niall. Barbara looked stunning in her Justin Alexander dress, hair up in an elegant knot, and Niall scrubbed up well in a top hat and tails. The venue was just outside of Mullingar, Niall’s hometown, at the stunning Bloomfield Hotel. The grounds were utterly gorgeous – with sweeping lawns and gardens leading down onto the shores of the pristine Lough Ennell. It was just a shame it was raining too hard to get out and truly enjoy the scenery.

Zayn, Perrie, Liam and Sophia, who had taken a holiday to stay the full week in Ireland, were greeted just as enthusiastically as Harry and Louis by Niall’s mum Maura. She looked lovely in a pale silver-blue floral two-piece, her hair freshly blonde and styled short. Bobby Horan, Niall’s father, greeted them with handshakes and hugs and Louis was transported back to his high school days when Bobby and Liam’s dad used to take them all out to a footy game to celebrate the last of the holidays. It was a warm memory and Louis felt bad that, over time, they’d lost that tradition. Maybe he ought to try and organise a reunion sometime? Manchester United had some big games coming up soon…   
Like the Bachelor Party, the guest list was star-studded and extensive. Virtually everyone from the Stag Do was there and it was quite cool to catch up with the likes of Viggo Mortensen and James McAvoy and be greeted like they were old pals. It seemed the stag party had created survivor type bonds and Louis began to wonder just who else had been arrested for their own safety that night. However, the ceremony didn’t seem to be the place to bring it up, who knew who else might be listening in. Within twenty minutes of arriving at the hotel, Louis had had eight offers of dinner/drinks next time he was near ‘such and such a city’. He couldn’t honestly say it hurt his ego any.

If Niall had a lot of famous friends then Barbara seemed to have thrice more. There were more designer suits and dresses going about than during London Fashion Week. If Louis knew anymore about fashion, other than a good suit, he would probably have been walking around with his mouth open. However, truth be told, he didn’t recognise many faces even though he was sure they were pretty famous.

If the congregation didn’t cause enough of a stir, then Barbara’s choice of bridesmaid certainly filled in the gap. There was an audible gasp as none other than Selena Gomez and two of her closest modelling friends, Stella and Sara, walked up the aisle. Louis couldn’t help but feel a little sorry for Niall’s extended family as they were very were easily identifiable as the ones gawking and rib-nudging. They had probably never met a celebrity in their life, except from Niall obviously and he wouldn’t count in their books. He would probably be gaping just the same if he hadn’t have gone to St James’s.

The three women looked gorgeous. Then again, even on the worst of days the young ladies were stunning so put them in a gorgeous pale peach organza dress and add a little bouquet and you, unsurprisingly, got yourself the bridal party worthy of a fairytale.

It was a lovely ceremony although quite formal, which was only to be expected as Niall’s family were quite staunch Catholics. Guiltily Louis found his mind wandering through much of the sermons. Although his mind didn’t wander far – just two spots to his right. Louis didn’t know about Harry but the whole day had felt kind of surreal to him. This was the first time they’d seen their friends since they’d (kind of) gotten together and, as they had decided not to tell anyone just yet, they had to pretend that nothing had changed between them. The thing was, a fair amount _had_ changed but it was so new they hadn’t even gotten fully comfortable with acting like a couple for real let alone acting like a couple pretending not to be a couple. Luckily they were given a bit of a reprieve from having to act as Amelia sat between them during the ceremony and also at dinner - providing an excuse not to get too close to the other. Amelia’s bump proved such a distraction for Harry that Louis actually began to feel the tendrils of jealousy. Also, the guy sat on the other side of Harry kept him repeatedly in conversation, leaving Louis feeling rather left out. He shook it off quickly, admonishing himself for being stupid. Harry was entitled to talk and spend time with other people and Louis had no business getting upset over that. Plus, Harry redeemed himself by sneaking Louis a second slice of the eye-poppingly green wedding cake. It had a mint flavoured cream filling and the sponge was ridiculously soft – just how Louis liked it. In fact, it was so delicious he nearly broke basic etiquette by seriously considering licking the paper napkin.

After dinner, Louis found himself trapped in a lengthy conversation with a man called Tom Pecheux, who picked his brains over permanent make-up lasers. It was a service he was looking into as a side part of his charity work with cancer patients. He was interested in acquiring a more individualised model that fit his hand comfortably. Louis ended up giving him his contact details and inviting him to RLA for further discussion next time he was in London. After shaking hands with the guy, he looked around for Harry but his date was nowhere to be seen so Louis worked the room until he met up with Liam and Zayn near the bar. Liam was sulking a bit, having had a row with Sophia and Zayn was quietly drunk (and/or high), which brought Louis’s own mood down a few pegs. As he sat and brooded with them, he grew more and more put out from the lack of attention from Harry. However, he refrained from drowning his frustrations in booze. Last week’s hangover was enough to put him off.

The Cèilidh got underway and Harry finally reappeared, getting into the thick of the dancing and clearly having the time of his life. However, he never so much as glanced in Louis’s direction, despite Louis frequently being in his eye line. So Louis joined Liam in sulking and listened absently to his friend moan about his and Sophia’s latest row.

It wasn’t until Niall and Barbara had left, a few hours later, that Harry finally joined them again, flopping down on an empty seat and looking infuriatingly happy, “What an amazing day,” he effused.

“Hmmm,” Louis hummed huffily.

Harry quirked an eyebrow at him, “You alright?”

“Fine,” Louis muttered, knowing he was acting like a petulant child but not caring enough to stop. He knew Harry had every right to spend his time with other people and by doing so he had made it infinitely easier to hide the change in their relationship. Still, it had hurt that Harry hadn’t checked in at all to make sure he was alright all night, nor had he done anything to indicate that although they were separated he was still thinking of him. All and all it felt like it hadn’t bothered Harry that they were separated.

The next thing Louis knew he was being pulled out of the hall and to the back of the hotel. They stopped in an empty hallway that overlooked the back gardens. It was a dully lit corridor and the rain lashed against the large windows making it feel like they were completely alone.

“What’s up?” Harry soothed, crowding Louis up against the wall. There was both affection and slight concern alight in his expression and his eyes had never seemed do bright.

“Nothing,” Louis sighed, because, in the grand scheme of things, it _was_ nothing.

“Lou,” Harry warned.

“It’s just…” Louis swallowed thickly and tore his eyes away, focusing on the shadowly rivulets of running down the glass behind them, “I wish you had warned me that the plan was to stay away from each other all day.”

“What?” Harry blinked.

“Forget it,” Louis mumbled, pushing away, “I’m just being stupid. Liam’s bloody miserable mood has rubbed off on me, that’s all.”

“Hey no,” Harry clutched his arm, tugging him back, “if you have an issue I want you to tell me about it. I can’t learn from my errors of judgement unless you tell me when it’s wrong.”

Louis sighed, “It’s honestly nothing… I just… I haven’t really seen you all day and I kind of… missed you, that’s all really.”

“Aww, _Lou_ ,” Harry crooned, his expression softening, “I’m so sorry, you should have said something. I only kept my distance because you said you don’t want other’s to know about us just yet. As I tend to wear my emotions on my sleeve I was worried I’d do or say something to give us away.” He reached down to play with the lapel of Louis’s suit jacket, “Also, you look incredibly handsome in that suit and it’s kind of hard to focus on anything else when you’re in my eyeline. It’s a bit embarrassing really.”

Okay, so Louis was kinda charmed; hook, line and sinker. He leaned up and smudged their lips together for a brief second before mumbling, “You’re pretty eye-catching yourself Styles. Also, _nice save_ – I guess I’m going to have to get used to you flirting your way out of trouble.” Harry ducked his head, grinning sheepishly, which was pretty adorable if Louis was being honest. They stared at each other for a few long moments and then,

“Let me make it up to you?” Harry asked hopefully, with more than an ounce of flirtation. “A dance, a drink and then how about I run you a bath? I don’t know if you’ve seen the tub in our room but it has some serious jet settings _and_ it could hold a family of four in it. Plus, they provide free bubble bath. It would be a sin to leave here tomorrow without testing that out.”

“Hmm,” Louis’s mouth twitched as he tried not to smile and spoil the act, he was such a pushover, “I think I may be able to forgive you in that case… and, you know, if that tub is big enough for four, you could maybe join me?”

Harry’s mouth went slack.

“Providing you’ve brought your trunks,” Louis added, chuckling as Harry’s expression immediately dropped.

“Will boxers do?” Harry squeaked, flashing his best puppy expression.

Louis pretended to consider it for a moment, “Depends on how good that drink is.”

In the end Louis did let Harry join him. They sat on opposite ends of the tub and it was nice and intimate without any uncomfortable heavy sexual overtones Louis wasn’t ready for yet. Harry massaged Louis’s feet while they debated whether Dumbledore or Gandalf was the wisest wizard of all time.  

 

~*~

 

“Niall and Babs send us their love from the Maldives,” Harry announced, not even looking up from his phone.

Louis smiled, as his fingers flew over the controller, “I highly doubt that’s how they put it,” he replied, barely managing to catch the _dear_ before it left his lips.

Zayn snorted and then immediately swore as his momentary lapse in concentration had his character falling down into a pit and he had to return to his last save point. Louis cackled and raced on ahead.

“I _was_ paraphrasing,” Harry admitted, “Niall’s actual words are ‘look at this motherfucking amazing view bitches.’

“Charming.”

It was Friday night and the two of them had gone over to Zayn and Perrie’s house for a lazy night of pizza, Xbox and weed. Perrie was in another room, Skyping with her mum, while the three men sprawled themselves all over the living room. Louis was a little distracted by the blunt in Harry’s mouth. It was oddly attractive and it was hard not to just stare. Also, his ankle was right next to Harry’s free hand and Harry was stroking the bare skin absentmindedly, sending delicious sparks of warmth up Louis’s leg. These distractions were why he wasn’t much further ahead of Zayn in the game.

When the house phone started to ring none of them made a move to answer it, far too lazy under the smokey haze. Eventually Perrie stormed out with a muttered curse in their direction and snatched up the receiver. “Hello?” She snapped. There was a pause and then, “Oh hi love, sorry, sorry, I was on the… what? What? Oh my…” She went quiet and then let out a small screech of, “ _oh fuck_ …” Out the peripheral of his eye, Louis saw Harry sit up with a frown and made to pause his half of the game. Perrie’s exclamation hadn’t exactly sounded happy. He had barely finished that thought when suddenly Perrie was in front of the TV blocking their view and muttering, “fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck-” She frantically pressed buttons on the remote until their game disappeared and the Virgin logo appeared.

“Hey!” Zayn cried.

Perrie shushed him sharply and the moment the screen came alive she set it onto the BBC News. It took a moment for the sound to synch in with the picture but by the time it had they were all already frozen in horror.

“… the two soldiers were shot by rebels as they tried to help their comrades caught up in the attack,” the reporter was saying. “Officials have confirmed one died instantly and the other shortly in hospital. The families of the two soldiers have been informed and army officials are releasing their names to the public. They were Private Scott Firkin, 25 from Reading and Lieutenant Cole Spencer, 31 from Central London. Both were Royal Marine reservists serving with the 3 Commando Brigade…”


	12. Chapter 11

Harry sniffled as he slipped the black tie around his neck. This suit was usually reserved for people who were old and had lived their lives not for best friends who were only just beginning theirs. He had to bite his lip hard to hold back the sob threatening to break free. He missed him terribly already, which was stupid because he had been missing him since he’d left on tour. But for all that time he had expected him to come back. The worry that something might happen had been dulled into disbelief by years of nothing actually happening. He had trusted Cole to keep himself safe – to march off that plane at the end of the tour and slip right back into their lives like he had never been away. So far he had missed him in the way that you do when you have to send something vital away to get mended and you wish the time would fast forward so you could skip through the days of absence. Now he was missing Cole in a completely different way - a desolate, soul-sucking final kind of way – the knowledge of eternal absence a stabbing pain in his chest that made it hard to breathe. It wasn’t a fatal wound but more like the removal of a non-essential organ that would always leave a hole and a ghost of it’s presence but would heal enough for him to carry on as normal.

What made the situation all the more painful was the fact Cole would never see his child born let alone have the chance tell them he loved them or was proud of them. Likewise, the child would never ever get to know their daddy, would never know his strong arms or fierce love. What kind of sick destiny was that?

Swiping away the burning moisture in his eye, Harry glanced sideways in the mirror at Louis. His partner was sitting on the sofa behind him, fumbling in his attempt to tie up his dress shoes – hands trembling too much to negotiate the necessity of fine motor skills. Letting out a watery breath of tearful affection, Harry dropped his tie and turned around, walking over to the couch and kneeling down in front of his friend. He gently nudged Louis’s hands out of the way and started tying the laces himself. When he was done he slowly looked up. Louis’ eyes were red raw and his lips were trembling with his attempt to stay in control. Harry’s heart broke even more. Silently, he stood up on his knees and pressed a comforting kiss to Louis’ forehead. Louis stiffened for a moment before slumping forward and letting their rest temples together. His breath was quietly ragged and belying the intense grief inside his head. Harry’s own pain doubled at seeing Louis so distraught. He would do anything to take the pain away from him.

“Do not stand at my grave and weep, I am not there; I do not sleep,” he found himself reciting in a soft whisper, “I am a thousand winds that blow, I am the diamond glints on snow, I am the sun on ripened grain, I am the gentle autumn rain.” Louis slowly looked up again, tears running freely down his cheeks. Harry gently cupped his face in his hands, “When you awaken in the morning's hush, I am the swift uplifting rush, of quiet birds in circled flight, I am the soft stars that shine at night. Do not stand at my grave and cry, I am not there,” Harry gently laid his hand over Louis’ heart in gesture, “I did not die.”

Louis crumpled and Harry held him tight to his breast. Now was the time for the private tears. Out there they had to share the public grief – this was their time to be vulnerable. Soon they had other people to be strong and resilient for.

 

~*~

 

The sky hung stormy grey and the wind, while gentle, was cold and insistent – hushed, in grief. A perfect day for a funeral so would say a poet. For Louis it was just like he’d seen time and time again on the news, which possibly made it hurt all the worse. It was a public spectacle; a day stolen by the cause and the individual intended somewhat lost amid the national parley. Louis tried to find a measure of appreciation but it was hard. Scores of the public lined the London streets from the barracks to the church and on to the cemetery - all wanting to pay their respects to another soldier who had given his life serving their country. However, none of them knew Cole beyond that. They saw him as a statistic; the fifth soldier to die in the new Syrian war and another reason why it was wrong of the government to involve us in war without our agreement. Louis saw Cole as the six year old boy with wild afro hair who asked a his own tiny six year old self if he wanted to swing upside down from the hand rail. He saw Cole as a sweet seven year old who drew on Louis’s arm as they discussed Batman v Spiderman. He saw Cole as the outgoing eight year old with freshly buzzed hair, who needed to show Louis his latest trick on the skateboard _right now_. He saw Cole as the hilarious nine year old who loved to crack jokes in class, which both frustrated and amused poor Mrs Burton. He saw Cole as the chill thirteen year old, who like nothing more than messing around with his friends in front of the X box and talking at length about comics. Louis saw fourteen year old Cole as the cool kid who liked to think he was a budding rap artist but still bit all the biscuit off the bottom of his twix first before eating the gooey caramel. He saw Cole as the sixteen year old hoody-wearing yob who ran the half marathon for Tommy’s charity because of his cousin lost a baby. He saw Cole as the seventeen year old pothead who was more worried about the fact he had no idea what he wanted to do after school than he was about his exams. He saw Cole as the eighteen year old who risked everything to sneak out from army training to celebrate Louis’s 18 th and ended up spending half the night cuddling the birthday boy in a random dark shed as Louis cried about his real father not being alive to buy him his first legal pint. Louis remembered a nineteen year old Cole, freshly buzz cut, marching off to war and crying with fear that it would be the last time he saw him alive. He remembered 20 year out Cole wrapping his arms around him, dusty and wearied, and saying ‘missed you bruv’. He remembered watching twenty-two year old Cole marching off to war again, breathless with fear that this time his friend might not be so lucky. He remembered 24 year old Cole, barely two days returned, screaming himself awake after falling asleep on the couch and Louis holding him through some of the most terrifying flashbacks. He remembered long talks about the horrors he’d seen – he’d done – which had left Louis close to a breakdown too. He remembered twenty-eight year old Cole leaving on tour again and him gently hushing Louis’s blubbering pleas to quit. He remembered twenty-nine year old Cole knocking on his office door a week after returning home to ask if he was up for some lunch and ring shopping. He remembered thirty year old Cole sitting him down and telling him he was going on tour again but this time… it would be his last deployment ever – he wanted to settle down and start a family with Amelia. He remembered the utter enchantment on thirty year old Cole’s face as he watched Amelia walk down the aisle towards him. He remembered that same Cole pulling him into a hug and telling him he’s be safe before marching off into the distance…

As the limousine reached the turning into the church driveway, Louis could see paps and camera crews waiting by the gate. He squeezed Amelia’s hand instinctively and spared a weak encouraging nod to the others. _Ignore the press; pretend they aren’t there_. The media wasn’t for them for a change; it was for the war and the indignation of the morning readers.   
The car rolled to a stop outside the main door, a good few metres from the hearse, and they gave themselves a moment to compose themselves. Swallowing hard, Louis was the first one to step out and he determinedly did not look towards the press. Instead, he held a hand out to help Amelia out of the car. At eight months pregnant she found it difficult to manoeuvre in large spaces let alone small. Once she was on her feet, sunglasses pressed closed to her red-rimmed eyes, he guided her gently past the line of guardsmen to the church steps where The Reverand was waiting to greet them sombrely. Louis hung back with the other lads as Amelia and Cole’s parents took the lead. Even from this fair distance they could all hear the click of the hungry cameras and the murmur of onlookers. Unable to help himself, Louis took a moment to glance around at the scene and his eyes were immediately drawn to the fence around the front of the building. It was covered, from end to end, in flowers. He clapped a hand over his mouth, afraid of the noise that might escae and nudged Harry’s arm, silently pointing with his head. The flowers, hundreds of them, were all from members of the public – tributes given to a man who had gone to Syria to try and help the innocent escape from a terrorist insurgency. Not one piece of the fence was free of bouquets and cards, nor was much of the pavement.

The sudden clack of marching feet stripped their attention away as six members of the Royal Marines, dressed in crisp blue uniforms and peaked hats, marched up to the hearse and slowly started to lift the coffin free. It was draped in the Union Jack with a single peaked cap perched on the top. Louis felt something large and messy well up inside him and had to turn away, ending up bumping into Harry who wrapped an arm around him instinctively.

As the soldiers slowly started to carry the coffin forward, Liam tugged at their sleeves and indicated they should all go inside. Louis pulled away from Harry and nodded, not even realising tears were rolling down his cheeks.

 

**Fiona Bruce:** _Hundreds of people turned out in Fulham,_ _London_ _, this afternoon for the funeral of a royal marine who was killed in_ _Syria_ _. Thirty-one year old Royal Marine reserve, Lieutenant Cole Spencer died after being shot by rebels while trying to rescue fallen comrades injured by a bomb blast. John White reports._

**Cut to Fulham cemetery.**

**_John White:_ ** _They came to pay tribute to one of their own. Over 500 people packed inside_ _St Albans_ _church in Fulham, today, for the funeral of local Royal Marine, Cole Spencer. Hundreds more lined the streets as the service was relayed outside. The reverend led a poignant service but it was the eulogy from Lieutenant Spencer’s best friend, The Honourable Louis Tomlinson, which truly touched the hearts of everyone listening._

**[Cut to Louis Tomlinson standing at the alter]** _“Cole was more than just a best-friend, a husband or a wife, he was the personification of everything a human should be; kind, generous, honest, loving, brave and just. It was his humour and open heart that truly won you over, though. He loved life. It sounds such a cliché but it’s true. That’s why he made such a good soldier. He could look beyond the ugliness of war, and the fear and anger and find compassion for even the most troubled soul. Over the ten years he served for our country, I saw him off on deployment no less than six times. Each time it got harder to watch him leave - not easier like they tell you. The longer you knew Cole the deeper you grew to love him and with that love came the understanding of just what wonder would be lost should he fall. Today we have all just lost an intrinsic part of our social soul._

**[Cut back to John White]** _Thirty-one year old Cole Spencer was serving with the 3 Commando Brigade in the Al Raqqa_ _province_ _of_ _Syria_ _when his checkpoint came under attack. Four of his fellow officers were wounded by a bomb blast and when Lieutenant Spencer attempted to pull them to safety he was shot by rebels. He leaves behind a mother, a father and a wife who is pregnant with their first child. Colleagues of Spencer led the gun fire salute and protected their friend’s coffin on it’s short journey from the church to the cemetery. There he was laid to rest…_

 

The TV suddenly switched off and Louis looked up in delayed surprise – too tired and emotionally drained to find the energy to react in normal time. Harry stared down at him, eyes sad and gentle. “It’s almost midnight and you’ve had that on repeat all evening.”

“I…” Louis swallowed tightly, “I can’t let go just yet. Today is _his_ day and tomorrow we have to start moving on. Tomorrow we… we have to start to for _get_.” He voice broke on the last syllable.

Harry sat down next to him with a heavy sigh and took his hands gently. “ _Darling_ ,” he said slowly and deliberately and Louis felt something warm creep under his skin but he stubbornly pushed it away, “we will _never_ forget. How could we? His child is going to remind us of him everyday.”

The reminder of Amelia’s pregnancy, of the child who would shortly be born without his or her father, brought a lump to Louis’s throat. “I suppose…”

“And,” Harry pressed, quickly kissing Louis’s knuckles, “we are going to honour Cole by teaching his child everything he taught us – everything you listed in your wonderful speech. We are going to make sure his child understands who his or her father truly was and what he stood for. We’ll also make sure that child never wants for love or guidance – of course, we will never take Cole’s place but we’ll make sure his place never feels empty. That way, he may be gone physically but his presence will live on for as long as we do.”

Louis took his hands back and rubbed at his eyes before attempting a weak smile, “You sound like a greeting’s card.”

“Well, thanks,” Harry huffed, looking away in irritation.

“But,” Louis patiently tapped his thigh so that Harry would look back round and see his sincerity, “it’s a lovely sentiment if there’s truth behind it.”

Harry swallowed tightly and nodded, “No falsities intended.”

Louis sagged under the weight of everything he was feeling; grief, loss, misery, determination and also a sudden fierce love for the man beside him.

“Come on,” Harry croaked, “let’s go to bed.” He stood up and held out a hand. Louis took it but kept holding it once he was on his feet.

“Stay with me tonight?” He mumbled, not wanting to be alone with his heartache.

Harry nodded and quietly led him upstairs by the hand. There was no awkwardness as they stripped down to their underwear in Louis’s room nor when they slid under the covers and cuddled up, bare skin against bare skin - intimately warm. There was nothing sexual about the soft nuzzles and idly stroking fingers either; it was purely about comfort and consolation. Eyes itchy and heart heavy, Louis eventually fell asleep to slow thud of Harry’s heart and the strong circle of his arms, wishing this small advance in their relationship wasn’t borne out of grief.

~*~

 

“I wish I could have made it back for the funeral. I liked that lad a lot – great attitude, great personality. Very human and humble and I couldn’t have asked for a better friend for you to grow up with.”

Louis’s smile wobbled as his eyes welled up at the genuine sadness in his Grandfather’s voice. Of course, Robert had known Cole since a little boy too, as one of Louis’s small circle of friends who occasionally stayed for a sleepover or hung about the house after school. It wasn’t surprising he was upset at the loss too – Louis’s friends had practically become extended family over the years.

“Thank you,” he said, firmly staring out over the miles of rooftops as he took another bite of his sandwich. This had always been their private place, high up on a small flat plain of Robert’s mansion’s roof, ever since Louis had been a little boy. Whenever he’d been upset this was where they’d go and chat until Louis felt better. Nothing had changed over the years – except it grew a little more cramped as Louis got taller.

“How is Amelia coping,” Robert asked gently, “is there anything she needs?”

“She’s devastated of course,” Louis sighed, recalling her constant tearful edge, “utterly heartbroken, but I don’t think she was as shocked as the rest of us. I think she came to terms with the likelihood of this scenario a long time ago and she’s using the baby to help her cope with the grief.”

“Ah yes, it can’t be long till the baby’s due, now,” Robert hummed, opening a packet of crisps. “I’ll have to start looking for a suitable gift.”

“A month, give or take,” Louis concurred. “Harry and I are going the traditional route of toys and clothes.”

“You and Harry, hmm?” Louis looked around to see his Grandfather’s eyes sparkling with amusement.

“Uh…” Louis could feel heat travelling up his neck, he had never been good at lying to his Grandfather. The thing was, Cole’s death had, understandably, put their fledging relationship on hold this past week. Their affection had grown with the need for comfort but beyond that had been paused for the need to grieve.

“You and Harry seem very close these days,” Robert mused, “especially considering I have barely seen him since he returned in July - even though rumour has it he’s been living in your spare room. It feels almost like you’re keeping him all to yourself for some reason. Either that, or you’re too uncomfortable to bring him along to dinner like you used to. Why that would be, I don’t know…?”

“Um… I didn’t mean it to feel like that,” Louis hedged quickly, “it’s just… he’s been filming since August and -”

“I’m teasing Louis,” Robert chuckled, “calm down.” The knowing expression on his Grandfather’s face, however, had Louis blushing. “Although,” Robert raised a curious eyebrow, “your reaction does make a point. Is there anything you’d like to tell me?”

“Uh… _no_?” The squeak and question in Louis’s voice belied everything he’d intended to cover up.

Robert shrugged and took a casual sip from tea, “If you say so. Although I do wish your eyes lit up as much when it came to paperwork as they do when Harry’s mere name is mentioned.” It was clear he knew – or at least suspected – but was happy enough to let Louis tell him in his own time. Louis didn’t know whether to bury his face in embarrassment or hug the living hell out of the guy so he changed the subject instead.

“Are you going off to France as usual this Christmas?”

“Planning to,” Robert nodded. Ever since Louis had been a child his Grandparents had frequently gone to the south of France to spend Christmas with their closest friends, Bill and Evelyn. After Louis’s beloved Grandmother died, Robert had started going every year, which Louis thought was wonderful. “Are you going to your mother’s?”

Louis winced, he hadn’t even thought about it. Their last correspondence had been on Niall’s stag night and that hadn’t exactly gone well. She was probably waiting for an apology but Louis didn’t exactly feel obliging.

“Maybe not this year,” he admitted quietly.

Robert sighed heavily, “ _Louis_. You need to tell her the truth at some point. It isn’t fair having this hostility between you when she doesn’t even understand the full reason of the hostility in the first place. Think about your siblings too. The youngest don’t even understand there is a situation between you - all they know is that you are a less and less frequent person in their life for no apparent reason. When was the last time you saw them? If you’re not careful you’ll become a stranger.”

Louis slouched in on himself guiltily. The problem was; it was guilt born out of duty rather than care. His distance had meant he had never really connected with the youngest of his siblings and the thought of the older ones still being influenced by Eleanor made him wary. Since he was very young he hadn’t had the smoothest relationship with his family. First there was his mother marrying another man and having his sister Lottie barely a year after Louis’s own father had died. That had been a hard thing to adjust to at such a young age; losing a parent and then being expected to share his mum with two new strangers. Then, barely a year later he started spending three quarters of the year with his Grandparents, which hadn’t helped forge deep connections with his growing family. His second sister Felicity was five months old before he even got to meet her, consequentially he had never gotten as close to her as Lottie or the first set of twins. From then on, every time he went home something had changed and he was constantly playing catch up – always having to refigure his place in the family. The more time he spent away the more he felt pushed out – the thing is, he felt he was a better person for it. Yes, he knew that sounded awful; money didn’t automatically make you a better person but, in his case, it helped take him out of a negative situation and put him in a positive one. The downside was, the distance made the vague disconnection he had family with his family grow. This issue came to a head when he had been pulled out of St James’s Juniors. The vague disconnection he had with his family grew with his resentment and bitterness. Instead of growing closer to his family, he started going out of his way to pull away from them. Once he’d been allowed to go back to St James, things had improved. His resentment and anger had dissolved with time and distance and upon his visits home he made an effort to be polite and pleasant (mainly out of fear of being pulled from St James again). After that, he did grow close to his family again. Not as close at he could have been had they all moved to London but close enough that he was seen as a doting big brother when the first set of twins were born. Everything stayed on that delicate plateau for a good number of years until his mother divorced Mark when he was eighteen. Louis had been in Uni at the time so he could do nothing but stand from afar and watch his carefully reconstructed family fall apart. Louis tried to help out as best he could during the holidays and both he and his mother made a tentative step to reclaiming the close relationship they had before Louis’s real father had died. This was helped by him going out with Eleanor. The concrete hadn’t quite set though when Eleanor screwed him over so everything that had been built between them crumpled to the ground. Fast forward a few years and his mother was marrying his second stepfather and having another set of babies. Louis had only met the guy two times before he knocked up and married his mother. Louis was tired and fed up of having to be the one to make the effort to catch up and find a way to fit so he’d put it off and put it off until he’d reached the point he didn’t really want to try. He had his own family he was close with; his Grandfather, Zayn, Perrie, Liam, Sophia, the kids, Niall, Barbara, Amelia and, of course, Harry. He was happy and so was his mother and siblings. Maybe it was time to just let it go, for both of their sakes?

“To be honest, I think they’re probably happier this way.”

“Absolute tripe!” His Grandfather cried, “Do you honestly think your family doesn’t care about you? Do you really believe your mother doesn’t think about her first child every single day and wish things weren’t the way they are? Do you not think she regrets letting you drift away? Nobody is perfect, nobody brings up their children without making mistakes but no matter how frustrated or cross with her you are, don’t you dare think she doesn’t love you.”

Louis swallowed hard, “Sometimes it’s hard to think like that though,” he admitted, “especially when I feel like I’ve always been the one making all the effort to fit in. It never felt like she did anything to help make it feel like there was a proper place for me. I was always the spare they weren’t sure how to act normal around – the lonely parent they had to invite over during the holidays.”

“You’ve never said anything about this before,” said Robert delicately.

“I didn’t feel the need to,” Louis replied, just as softly, “as far as I was concerned, you and Gran were my proper family.”

Out the corner of eyes, he saw his Grandfather well up with emotion and was instantly glad he had said those words. He probably should have said them a long time ago – he knew it was one thing to feel sure of something but a whole different game to hear it verbally confirmed. Louis liked nothing more than pleasing his Grandfather; Robert was one of the few people who had his utmost respect. After all, he owed his Grandparents so much. Without them he would not be doing the job he loved nor would he have the most incredible group of friends. No, without them he probably would have been in jail by now – judging by his delinquent behaviour between St James Juniors and St James Seniors. His Grandparents had been such a kind, positive and encouraging light in his life. He owed them so much gratitude and love in return. It was one of the reasons he would take on the family business from Robert despite his reservations. He wanted to give something back to the people who had given him so much.

“As were you ours,” Robert replied, uncommonly choked, “I couldn’t be more prouder of you Louis and it has been an absolute joy to help raise you. I also speak for your Grandmother when I say, you’ve been the light of our lives and we would raise you again a million more times if given the chance.”

Louis looked out across the sprawling city for a moment before biting his lip and standing up. He stepped towards his grandfather and, for the first time in too long, gave him a hug.  

 

~*~

 

On Saturday, Louis and Harry went over to Amelia’s house straight after breakfast to drive her and Harley over to her parent’s house. She had decided she needed sometime away from their Fulham family house in order to grieve and neither of them was selfish enough to talk her out of it. With the baby due fairly soon, it was probably the best option anyway.   
Louis could certainly understand her needing out of the house. He, himself, had to force himself to focus solely on the task at hand and ignore everything in the house bar the floor and doors. The fact that every item was still in the same place as it had always been was too much of a poignant reminder of Cole’s absence. Knowing that the thick Penfield Gilit hanging on the peg, waiting for the winter walkies on Fel Brook Common, would now be forever waiting in vain…

“There’s a box up in the nursery still to come down,” said Harry softly, brushing past with a crate of art supplies.

“Okay,” Louis replied, forcing his head away, not realising he’d been staring, “then that’s it?”

“Yeah. Think so.”

Amelia was silent in the passenger seat as Harry shut the boot loudly and got inside the car himself. Louis strapped himself in the right hand backseat and encouraged Harley to sit down on the seat beside him – rather than clamber everywhere in his excitement. As Harry turned on the engine and they pulled away, Amelia stoically did not turn her head to get one last glance of the house but stared out of the windscreen, eyes shimmering. Louis, feeling tears tugging at his own eyes at the raw pain in her expression, reached forward and squeezed her shoulder.

“It’s going to be weird not having you guys so close,” she choked out, taking Louis’s hand and grasping it gratefully.

“We’re right here if you need us,” said Harry quickly, “any time, any day.”

“Yeah,” Louis agreed, “you know my office number as well as my mobile so don’t hesitate to give me a ring – even if it’s just to complain about Whispas getting smaller.”

She chuckled wetly, “I swear they have. I used to get at least eight bites out of one, now I’m lucky to get six.”

“Told you love, you need to complain to Cadbury. You never know, they might send you a whole box as compensation.”

“Yeah,” Harry chimed in, “it could be your birthing present. Once the baby is here you can relax and roll about a bed full of chocolate bars to celebrate.”

Amelia smiled at them and then bit her lip, “You’ll come and visit once the baby’s born?”

“Sweetheart,” Louis chuckled, “the moment you’re in labour we’ll be at the hospital.”

“And we’ll visit regularly once you’re both home,” Harry put in before indicating out onto the motorway slip road. “You won’t be able to move from all the toys and flowers we’re going to spoil you both with.”

“Indeed,” Louis nodded, “and we’ll be more than glad to babysit if you ever need a break.”

Amelia raised an eyebrow before her eyes narrowed suspiciously. She glanced from one to the other, “That was a lot of ‘ _we_ ’s…”

Louis’s heart skipped a beat and his mouth went dry, “Uh…”

“That reminds me of a joke,” said Harry quickly and Louis didn’t know whether to laugh, cringe or kiss him for the change of subject, “I read something the other day that almost made me piss myself. It was a sign that said ‘Toilets closed’.”

There was another awkward pause and then Louis snorted, “I can’t believe you said that... that was _awful_.” When Amelia was looking he sneakily reached out and squeezed Harry’s shoulder appreciatively and felt Harry nuzzle it surreptitiously with his chin.


	13. Chapter 12

 

~*~

 

On Tuesday Louis spent most of his working hours in meetings, both internal and external. The morning was spent conferencing with a research facility in Switzerland and top clinic in Norway – discussing potential projects and outlining procedures. After lunch he had three more meetings to attend. First there was the monthly head of department meeting where they finished two tins of Fox’s Creations between them just to keep up morale to the end. The second was the more formal budget meeting, which included his Grandfather, Willard, admin and some of the shareholders. He finally lost his will to live around about two pm when Willard proceeded to go on and on for an hour about the company’s capital growth and market performance – complete with mind-numbingly boring powerpoint presentation that contained graph after graph. By the time the torture was over, Louis had turned every ‘i’ on the print-out into a dick and transposed every ‘Co’ and ‘it’ into cock and tit respectively.

After that meeting had finished, he had enough time to grab a cup of tea and half a sandwich before his scheduled conference with a Canadian University. One of his mates from back in Uni was now lecturing over there and he had promised to record a few videos using his specialised equipment to visually demonstrate some of the properties of light. Today’s conference was not only with Bryce but with several other members of the University Physics department to talk more in depth as to what exactly the video(s) should include and how much detail to go into. One thing that always struck him about conferencing was the different time zones. It was four o’clock here and the winter night was starting to creep in. On the other side of the screen it was only nine am and the lecturers all looked sleepy and morning-rumpled – clutching their coffee cups like a life-line.

Around four forty, just as they were winding up, there was a knock on Louis’s door and Harry stepped in. Louis’s mood lifted instantly and he smiled in delight. It wasn’t often Harry surprised him at work. Maybe he was going to whisk him off to dinner? They hadn’t anything planned as far as he knew and it would be the logical conclusion.   
The moment he saw the conference screen Harry winced and mouthed an apology, starting to back out. “It’s okay,” Louis chuckled, waving him forward, “I’m just finishing up.” He nodded to the chair on the other side of his desk, “Take a seat, I won’t be long.”

“Oh my God!” squeaked a shocked voice, “is that Harry Styles?”  
They both turned to the screen in surprise to see one of the female lecturers gaping at them.

Harry waved sheepishly, “Hi there!”

“Oh my God, oh my God!” she cried, flapping her hands uselessly.

“What is it?” Another voice asked in concern from off the camera.

“It’s Harry Styles!”

“What? No _way!_ ”

Suddenly the screen was full of faces. They all stared at him with wide, blinking eyes.

“Hi,” Harry said again, blushing as Louis gently kicked his shin under the table. Trust Harry to cause a scene.

“Okay, so now I have your full attention?” Louis teased. “If I had known it would just take one word from him I’d have called him in half an hour ago. Anyway,” he decided it was time for a fast wind up otherwise he foresaw a lengthy continuation of the call without him as a participant, “that’s us for today I think. I’ll call you on Thursday, Bryce, and let you know how I get on. Have a good day everyone.”

“But-” one of them cried out in protest as Louis ended the call decisively.

Harry chuckled as the screen turned black, “That was mean.”

Louis sent him a toothy grin, “It was, wasn’t it,” he didn’t feel much regret at all, _oops_. “So Mr Styles, what has you here on-”

There was another knock on the door and this time his Grandfather swept inside, “Glad you’re still here, Louis, I was afraid I might have missed you. I just need a quick signature on this miss…” he spotted Harry and stopped, quirking an amused eyebrow. At once Louis knew the papers were just a ruse to come and try and catch them doing, whatever Robert thought they might be doing – the cunning old devil. “Ah, _hello_ Master Harry,” Robert crowed. “How _are_ you, my lad? It’s been a while – I was beginning to think Louis was lying about you having returned.”

“I’m very well Mr Austin and yourself?” Harry replied politely, a faint blush high on his cheeks which Louis found interesting. He reached over and shook the elder man’s hand.

“Looking forward to retiring for the evening,” Robert sighed, rolling his shoulders stiffly, “in fact, I was about to ask Louis if he wanted to have dinner tonight – the invitation is, of course, extended.”

“Oh uh…” Harry hesitated, looking faintly alarmed at the idea. He looked to Louis helplessly, unsure of how to respond. Obviously he had had other plans in mind but didn’t want to say no if Louis wanted to have dinner with his Grandfather – although probably hoping, judging by his expression, that he didn’t.

“Sorry,” Louis quickly apologised, “we can’t tonight I’m afraid but how about tomorrow night instead?” He always hated turning down dinner with his Grandfather. It made him feel guilty as he imagined the man felt quite lonely at times. Plus his Grandfather was quite entertaining and Louis did love spending time with him. So what better way to spend an evening other than in the company of his two favourite people?

“Alas,” Robert sighed, not seeming too put out, “I was hoping to avoid a trip to Waitrose tonight but I suppose needs must. Yes, tomorrow will be fine, then. Shall I reserve us a table at Veneti’s?”

“Sounds good,” Louis nodded with smile, after Harry made a gesture to say it was okay with him.

“Excellent,” Robert placed the papers on Louis desk, “just sign at the bottom and I’ll fax them through before I leave.”

Louis scrawled his name, wondering where on earth his Grandfather had pulled the papers from, and handed them back with a coy smile.

Robert grinned toothily, “Until tomorrow then – I’ll let you know the time Louis. Good to see you Harry. Have a good evening.”   
“Thanks Granddad,” Louis called to his retreating back, “Goodnight.”

As the door closed Louis turned expectantly to Harry and teased, “Okay, spill. What’s got you so blushy and nervous? You used to hug him like he was your own Grandfather. Just now I thought you were about to pee in your pants when he asked us to dinner.”

Harry shuffled his feet in the most endearing of manners, “I just realised that I’m secretly dating the grandson of one of richest and most powerful men in Britain. That’s kind of mess your pants terrifying.”

Louis burst out laughing, “Oh my god! That’s priceless. What do you think he’s going to do if he finds out, put a hit out on you?” Louis laughed even harder. “I hate to tell you love but I’m pretty sure he already knows about us – he’s just waiting for me to confirm it.”

“ _What_?!” Harry yelped, jumping up as though he’d just been bitten.

Louis flopped, back in his chair and laughed helplessly up at the ceiling.

“I don’t know why you’re laughing, it isn’t funny,” Harry cried. “He’s only going to accept the best when it comes to you; how am I meant to impress someone like him – I can’t even walk downstairs without tripping over something. No, stop laughing!”

Chest burning, Louis laughed fond and freely, “Oh Haz,” he lamented.

Despite himself, Harry slowly started to smile too, his expression incredibly tender as he watched Louis laugh like an idiot.

Shaking his head, Louis stood up and walked around the desk, resting his hands on Harry’s firm chest. It lit something warm in his lower stomach and he couldn’t help but notice how nice Harry nice; sharp, clean and expensive.

“All my Grandfather cares about is that I’m happy and you,” Louis ducked his head a little, smiling all the same, “make me happy.”

He felt rather than heard Harry swallow and then warm hands were framing his head, pulling it up gently. The slight quiver of Harry’s arm muscles was surprising pleasant and it made Louis shiver at the thought of their power. He hadn’t quite realised just how big and deceptively strong Harry was – he could probably easily lift him...

“Lou,” the murmur was hot whisper against his lips and, oh yeah, they were heading for a kiss. Louis tilted his head just as Harry’s mouth met his own, warm, damp and knee-weakingly soft. Louis’s stomach swooped upwards and he slipped his arms around Harry’s neck. Harry’s hands settled on his waist in return, lifting him slightly until Louis was on tiptoe. _Fuck, why haven’t we been doing this for years_ , Louis whined to himself as Harry’s teeth tugged on his lower lip causing something hot to throb low in his abdomen. Not one to sit idle, Louis returned the favour, making Harry elicit a low throaty moan. _Holy crap,_ he froze for a moment, stunned. In the slack of his trousers his dick had started to curve. Sure, he’d had twitches over the last few years, even the odd morning wood that went absolutely nowhere, but never anything consciously present with another person.   
Harry evidently hadn’t felt Louis tense up as he kept pressing insistent kisses to his mouth and adding gentle swipes of his tongue, encouraging Louis to open up.

 _Fuck it_ , Louis thought recklessly, _go with the flow_ , and he opened his mouth obediently. Best decision ever. The first wet slide of their tongues sent a thrill zipping down his spine and he groaned happily as his dick curved even more. It had been too long – far too long since he’d been kissed like this, far too long since he’d enjoyed it. He slid his hands up into Harry’s hair, tugging lightly as he encouraged the kiss to continue.

Harry whined low and throaty, tightening his grip on Louis’s waist. _Likes his hair pulled, duly noted_ , Louis thought with a giggle and tugged at the silky strands again. As Harry moaned again and increased the urgency of their kisses, pressing Louis gently against the desk in attempt to get even closer, there was a sharp knock and the office door started to open. They pushed away immediately, swiping hurriedly at their mouths, before turning to see Willard standing there staring, eyebrow raised sky high. As his cheeks burned hot with mortification, Louis’s heart filled with dread. Of all the people to catch them… fucking _Willyhard_. The twat would take bloody delight in making things very, very difficult for Louis. Once he found out that it wasn’t common knowledge he would drop comments in every conversation, flirting with giving the game away to everyone else. _Fuck, fuck, fuck!_

The silence continued for another few agonising seconds and then, “Awkward,” Willard snorted, stepping further into the room, a recognisable wad of papers in hand. “Once you’ve finished shoving your tongue down Harry’s throat during office time, Louis, perhaps you’d been so kind as to sign these requests you threw in my tray? I’m good but I’m not good enough to forge your ridiculous signature.”

“Give them here,” Louis growled out, holding out a hand.

Willard smiled saccharinely, “Thank you ever so much and in future, please be more thorough, it’s what you’re being paid for after all. I shouldn’t have to waste my time chasing you around just because you can’t remember a simple signature.”

Louis shoved two fingers up as Willard retreated.

“Twat,” he muttered. Then he turned to Harry and offered a weak smile, “Come on, let’s get out of here. This office is turning into Clapham Junction.” He nabbed his coat off the peg. “What _are_ our plans tonight, anyway?”

Harry, who had seemed a big awkward and subdued since Willard’s untimely interruption, brightened instantly, “Oh, I got my hands on a pair of tickets for Phantom of the Opera. Since it’s still quite early, I thought we could walk over to Piccadilly Circus, have dinner at Cicchetti’s and then catch the show afterwards?”  
Louis felt something warm slide into his stomach; this was a date, this was a _proper_ date, “When you say you got your hands on a pair of tickets,” he teased, tapping Harry on the nose, “do you mean your bank card made a friendly transaction with the OLT?”

Harry pouted and them smiled, “Maybe, maybe not. That’s for me to know and you to forever wonder. So,” he stood up and held out a hand with a flourish, “Mr Tomlinson, care to allow me to wine and dine you?”

Knowing he was grinning like a right tool, but not caring all that much, Louis nodded, “I daresay you can Mr Styles. Lead the way.”

Later that night, as he lay alone in his bed grinning up at the ceiling like a lovesick fool, lips swollen from trading kisses on the sofa like a teenager with his first crush, he wondered at what point his romantic life had turned into a Disney film.

 

~*~

 

On Saturday, the first weekend in December, and, no, Louis wasn’t already obsessing about what to get Harry for Christmas – honestly - Harry asked him if he would like to have lunch with some friends of his from the industry. Louis, ever obliging and realising he wouldn’t see Harry all day if he didn’t go along, agreed. Not knowing what to expect, he decided to dress smart-casual in a soft grey cashmere jumper and navy Chinos, his favourite wool trench coat and a grey beanie. After all, Harry was friends with some of the acting Guild’s royalty – he didn’t want to look out of place, especially as he didn’t know where they were actually going. The softness in Harry’s eyes when he joined him downstairs told him he had chosen well. He almost missed it because he was too busy choking over Harry’s sinfully tight jeans. When, the hell, did Harry buy those? No, scratch that, what was more important was how the hell he even got into them and where the hell was his poor dick? Also… nice bum.

Harry saw him looking and correctly interpreted his thoughts, “Ten minutes of wriggling,” he giggled, “and it’s cupped very snugly at the front.” He patted his slight bulge, which was more noticeable from an angle.

“Mate, my balls are aching just looking at you and not only because they make your arse look fantastic.”

Harry lit up like Christmas in Blackpool and he fluttered his eyelashes ridiculously, “You think my arse looks fantastic? Really?”

“Trust you to only take that from my comment,” Louis teased, rolling his eyes.

But Harry was not to be deterred and he started to sing, “Louis thinks my arse looks good, doodah, doodah, Louis thinks my arse looks good, doo-dah-doo-dah-day.”

Chuckling, Louis reached out to pinch one of Harry’s nipples, “Be careful or I’ll start moaning like I do in your fantasies. I can’t imagine a semi would be much fun in there.” He prodded the zipper over Harry’s crotch to make his point. This wasn’t exactly new territory – they had always touched each other inappropriately in the name of teasing and it didn’t feel much different now that their relationship label had changed. Except… except there was this faint new background buzz that made him feel all tingly at the thought of anything remotely intimare pertaining to Harry. It wasn’t enough for him to say, ‘I think I’m magically cured – let’s go at it’, he wasn’t that naïve, but it did have him wondering if things weren’t as bad as he assumed and that maybe he should push the boundaries a little.

Harry whined and pushed his hand away from his crotch and then from his nipple when Louis made a move to pinch it again, “Now you’re just being mean. How about I pinch your-”

The ringing of the house phone saved Louis from retaliation and he giggled as his reached out and twisted Harry’s nipple quickly before skittering away to answer the call. Harry swore under his breath and rubbed the smarting area before following Louis into the kitchen to fetch his shoes. As Louis answered the call with a breathless, “hello?” Harry walked past him and laid a stinging slap on his arse. Louis yelped and cursed before quickly apologising to whoever was on the phone. It was only a telemarketer though and he hung up five seconds later without so much as a goodbye.

He eyed Harry speculatively, wondering what he could do for revenge. Harry looked back at him, amusement shining clear in his eyes, and waggled his finger warningly, “Enough Tomlinson, get those dainty feet of yours into a pair of shoes and let’s get going.”

“Yes, sir!” Louis replied, poking out his tongue, then wailed as Harry flicked it playfully with his fingers.

A few minutes later they were tumbling out the front door in laughter and heading up the street towards the station.

There was something rather romantic walking along next to Harry in the cold wintry noon air, Louis acknowledged to himself. Today there was still a bit of frost on the ground but the sun was out in full; sitting low and a bit blinding. Louis tugged his beanie a bit lower and looped his arm through Harry’s. For a while they strolled contently quiet and lost in their own thoughts. Louis’s eyes caught the sign for the cemetery and remembered it had been a day like today when Cole had last returned safely from war. If things had been different, they would all be growing excited for him coming home right now. Louis gritted his teeth at the growing lump in his throat. Cole’s death wasn’t so raw now, more an enduring sadness he couldn’t quite shake and he felt a guilty tug of war over finding it easy to be distracted from Cole’s absence and knowing Cole wouldn’t want him to obsess over it. As though he were actually there and watching Louis heard Cole’s voice in his head, “stop being so morbid and enjoy this time with Harry – he could get a role any day now and hed off on location.” So he did just that – taking his time to absorb the scenery around him, which he never really did in his work-run.

The main roads were busy, what with it being the run up to Christmas. Harry stopped and bought them both a cup of tea and a cappuccino croissant to enjoy as they waited at the quiet station.

As Louis found out, their final destination included a fairly involved train journey - hopping from the District Line to the Central at Notting Hill Gate and then swapping to the DLR at Bank – and he was grateful for the small piece of sustenance. Eventually they disembarked at Limehouse, a part of London Louis wasn’t too familiar with nor was he any the wiser of who they might be visiting in such an area. As Limestone station was a stone’s throw away from the river, and with views down to Canary Wharf, they spared a few minutes to ogle at the financial district high-risers. “Glad I don’t work on the top floor of one of those,” Louis joked, wiping away the tears the cold wind had whipped from his eyes, “imagine if the lift broke – you’d probably have a heart attack before you got half way up.”

Harry giggled into his shoulder, having shifted closer for warmth, and joked back, “You know, a lot of people are afraid of heights. Me? I’m afraid of lengths – particularly the kind the media is willing to sink to in order to sell their publications.”

Louis snorted and slapped Harry’s arm lightly, “That was terrible and yet… kind of exasperatingly amusing,” he admitted.

“Yes!” Harry crowed, fisting the air, “one to me.”

“One semi-decent pun out of ten thousand is not something to brag about love,” Louis chuckled as he leaned over the railing to look down into the silty murk of the river. He watched at the water lapped gently against the algae-stained pillars, cold and uninviting and wondered if it still contained any traces of the plagues and pandemics of centuries gone by. He shivered at the thought. The world had enough contagious diseases going about without dredging up any others from the past.

After another few minutes they started to amble away down the riverwalk towards Westferry, confidently strolling arm in arm with no one around to recognise them. Louis had only been in this area a handful of times before and it was nice to have a chance to take a step back and absorb the view of his home surrounds. For him, it was crazy to realise that this never ending cityscape, that seemed to stretch on into the horizon, didn’t even afford him a view of his own house a mere seven miles away. Even crazier was the knowledge that the urban sprawl continued for miles beyond his home too – a thought that one lost sight of during the day to day distractions of normal city life.   
As they walked along, they chatted about their plans for Christmas day. As their relationship was so new (and moving so slow) neither had assumed that it would play a big part of their plans this year. As it was, Harry was expecting to head home to his mum’s for Christmas and had assumed Louis would head to Jay’s as normal. However, as per his previous conversation with his Grandfather, Louis still did not feel comfortable, under the current circumstances, to go there this year and he admitted as such to Harry.

“You really don’t want to go and visit you mum and siblings?” Harry repeated incredulously, walking faster in order to get in front of Louis to make him stop. Louis determinedly kept moving, though, giving Harry little option but to walk backwards to avoid collision. This caused him to veer off course and nearly crash into a poor cyclist approaching from the opposite direction.

“No, I really don’t,” Louis sighed, once he’d pulled Harry out of harm’s way and apologised to the cyclist with a sheepish wave. “After the Eleanor wedding thing I’m not exactly in a good place with mum and…” he winced as he thought about his youngest step-siblings who had only seen him enough times to count on two hands, “ever since she married the new guy I don’t really know my place in the family anymore.”

“Well you won’t ever know if you don’t put in any effort into finding that place,” said Harry softly.

“But I have put in effort!” Louis snapped, hating that Harry, the one person he thought he could always count on to be on his side regardless, was playing fair. “Ever since my father died when I was _four_ I’ve always been the one trying to squeeze in!” He swallowed hard and looked down at his feet, not wanting to see any judgement on Harry’s face at his outburst. “Don’t get me wrong, I don’t begrudge my mum happiness and, for a long time Mark gave her that, but I was… god, I don’t even know how to describe it... It was like... for four years she held my hand and guided me everywhere until one day my father died and she had to let go of my hand for a minute to deal with it. After that she had too much to juggle in her arms so she couldn’t go back to holding my hand. However, I was expected to follow close to her side and not wander off. The problem was that our lives soon became busy and I was too small to keep up and people started to cut in front of me, separating us a bit. Soon I could hardly keep my mum in sight and when I did finally catch up my mum’s hands were filled with even smaller hands than mine so all I could do was grab the hem of her jacket and hold on. Then every time the coat slipped from my grasp I had to run to catch it again. This happened a lot and I started to grow tired after all the running. Then, seven years ago, her coat fell from my grasp again and this time I fell over. By the time I had gotten to my feet she was so far in front of me I couldn’t even see her in the distance so I sat down on the floor, tired and bruised, and waited for her to notice and come back and find me. I’m _still_ waiting.”

There was a long pause and Louis panted into it’s silence; then Harry’s arms were folding around him and soothing lips were pressing against his temple and Louis sagged in relief. He had needed to get that out for so long.

“I know she loves me,” he croaked, “but I can’t keep chasing her for the rest of my life. Maybe she doesn’t want me to keep up with her anymore, maybe that’s why she hasn’t come to find me.”

“Hey, don’t say that!” Harry admonished in a comforting manner, “I’m sure she would if she could. It’s probably really hard for her. She has four dependant kids to look after and a busy job to juggle and you live quite far away. It’s not you; it’s just her circumstances-”

“Please don’t make excuses for her Haz,” Louis mumbled, feeling a small flash of hot embarrassment as he admitted, “I know for a fact that she’s come down and visited Lottie four times this year and with Lottie and me only living eleven miles apart those excuses don’t wash.”

He felt Harry swallow thickly, probably trying desperately to find a reason to explain that away and closed his eyes. What Harry said next, though, he definitely wasn’t expecting. “Why don’t you come to Mum’s with me?”

Louis snorted over it’s absurdity before he’d even thought about it logically, “Not sure your mum would take too kindly of you inviting random people over for Christmas.”

“You’re hardly a stranger,” Harry chuckled, “and my mum _loves_ you. She’s always asking when I’m going to bring you up for a visit and it certainly wouldn’t be the first time we’ve had friends and family over for Christmas dinner.”

Louis worried his lower lip, torn. He loved the sound of it but really didn’t want to interrupt a family affair – Harry’s mum hadn’t seen her son much this year what with Harry being out in Guadeloupe for the first half of the year and London the second half. “I don’t know…”

Harry smiled in understanding and flicked the end of Louis’s nose to lighten the mood, “Look, there’s no pressure – I won’t be upset if you would rather not. The offer’s there. Spend Christmas with me in Holmes Chapel if you really don’t want to spend it with your mum and siblings. I, personally, would enjoy your company very much.”

“I’ll think about it,” Louis replied softy, keen to get off the subject “yeah?”

“Yeah,” Harry shrugged, “like I said, no pressure. Now let’s get going, I can barely feel my toes and I don’t know about you but I need another cup of tea.”

Tea, now that was something Louis could definitely say yes to right now.

“Any chance you’re going to tell me who we’re meeting up with before we get there?”

“Nope!” Harry sang as he began to walk away. After another ten minutes they’d walked further down the river and veered off onto a side street, ending up outside a converted four story building which Louis was sure would cost a pretty penny if it ever went up for sale. Sure, this wasn’t the most affluent area of London but a four story terraced house on a quiet, attractive street over-looking the river, was even something the wealthiest of bankers would look at before dismissing. Evidently the person who currently owned this particular house had serious money, judging not just by the house itself but the sleek red Jaguar XFR-S parked outside and the security panel next to the door. Harry pressed the doorbell and they heard a jangling chime ring deep inside. It took a moment but a crackly yet oddly familiar voice answered, “Yes, who’s calling?”

“It’s Harry,” Harry replied cheerfully into the intercom.

“Ah, right on time.”

There was a chinkling noise behind the door and a moment later it swung open to reveal...

“Oh my god it’s bloody Gandalf,” Louis spluttered and then instantly wanted to die as Harry started hee-hawing like a braying donkey beside him. Very much amused Ian smiled at Louis, who was simultaneously clutching his face in mortification and shooting Harry dirty looks, “Yes it is,” he chuckled, “but you may call me Ian.” He then turned to Harry, greeting jovially, “Harry my lad!” as he pulled him in for a warm hug. “It’s lovely to see you and… you’ve brought a _friend_.” His smile suddenly turned rather sharkish as he gave Louis the once over and Louis got the impression the man knew not only who he was but what he was to Harry too. He swallowed nervously but Ian’s smile quickly turned carefree again. “Come on in lads, Patrick’s just put the kettle on.”

As he left them to let themselves in, Louis took the opportunity to beat Harry senseless with his hat, “You absolute twat. You could have warned me,” his hissed as Harry fell into kinks again. Louis clutched at his own cheeks as he recalled that awful moment, “I called him Gandalf.” The pain of the mortification was intense.

“I know,” Harry guffawed, “and it’s was _bloody_ hilarious.”

Louis crossed his arms over his chest and pouted, “I hate you.”

Still laughing, Harry closing the door behind them and slipped his coat off - hanging it up on an old-fashioned hat stand. Louis followed suit and then curiously peered around the open reception room. It was spacious and a wonderful mix of old London and modern world. There was a lot of natural wood and white paint and chintzy armchairs and weird pieces of art and the air smelled like stale tobacco and… weed? Shaking his head, he took a moment to let the reality sink in. He was standing inside Sir Ian McKellen’s home. He, Louis William Tomlinson, was actually in the home of one of the world’s best actors. _Holy shit_.

Harry, on the other hand, not only appeared cool as a cucumber but he also seemed very familiar with the house and was happily leading the way through to the back of the house. Louis could only follow meekly behind, pinching himself with every second step, especially as his eyes landed on trophies, movie stills and framed photographs of legends. It was homely and shabby-chic yet lovingly put together and full of pride.

The kitchen, however, was the opposite; huge _yes_ but bright, airy, tidy and expensively modern. In the middle was a large island-come-table with stools on either side. Two people – two very well known people at that - were already sitting there; both casually barefoot and reading newspapers like it was just a normal day. Well it probably was a normal day for them; Louis, meanwhile, was just going to stand over in the doorway catching flies. Harry, with an obnoxiously amused grin, nudged him forwards towards a seat and Louis reluctantly sat on the nearest stool, tucking himself inwards as if that would make him less noticeable to the three movie giants in the room. The bald superhero nearest them looked up and grinned as he say them. “Harry!” He cheered, putting down his paper and opening up his arms. Harry trotted around the table happily, sliding into the embrace like a toddler.

“Hi Uncle Patrick.”

“Hey,” the third man huffed, eyes twinkling over his spectacles, “don’t I get a hug.”

“Of course, Uncle Michael, just coming,” Harry chuckled, letting Patrick go and teetering childishly over to the man who hugged him like a son.

“That’s what _he_ said,” Ian mumbled as he put a tea tray down on the table. Louis made a strangled sound that was probably meant to be a laugh but sounded more like a hyena being swiped by lion.

After the hugs were over, Harry sat down on the middle stool between Patrick and Michael.

“So, who is your friend,” Patrick prompted, smiling kindly at Louis across the table, a twinkle clear in his eye, “although, I think I can guess. Tiny build, blue eyes, cheekbones to die for… this must be _Louis_.”

Blushing hard, Louis stared accusingly at Harry, who had the grace to blush and avert his eyes. Evidently Harry had been singing Louis’s praises to the tune of _Truly Madly Deeply_ out loud. “Patrick,” Harry whined, smacking his arm lightly. “But yes, you’re right, this is Louis.”

“Hello then, Louis,” said Ian, who had walked over and put his hands on Harry’s shoulders, “welcome to our little old-man get-together. Don’t be fooled, Harry, here, may have a youthful face but his head is ready to retire.” He pinched Harry’s cheeks affectionately which made Harry laugh and swat his hand away. Ian then turned around to fetch a tea tray, which he brought around the table, setting it down beside Louis. Louis had never realised just how tall Ian McKellen was before; he set an imposing figure – although that could simply be a trick stemming from his colossal fame. It made Louis feel weak and small in comparison though. And then Ian’s sharp eyes were back on _him_ , looking him over with an appreciative gaze that made Louis feel naked, “Oh Harry,” Ian gushed, “he really is a pretty wee thing isn’t he? Look at that jaw line,” he reached out to gently turn Louis’s shocked face from side to side, “and those eyes… just beautiful, beautiful.” Louis felt himself blush right to his toes – pleased and embarrassed.

“He’s very quiet too,” Michael mused to Harry, scratching his chin absently, “unlike that assistant of yours.” Amid his disbelief, Louis felt a spike of annoyance that Nick had been here before him – although, it didn’t sound like Michael was the biggest fan of Nick-er-less. _Ha_.

“Trust you to pick a shy one,” Patrick teased.

“Oh I don’t think he’s shy,” Michael replied sagely, “you don’t get to be a guest speaker at the International Science Conference if you’re shy. No, I think he’s in shock.”

“I don’t think Harry told poor Louis who they were visiting today,” Ian fake whispered, placing a large cup in front of Louis and pouring tea directly into it, “there you go sweetie,” he patted Louis’s shoulder gently. “Milk and sugar is on the tray.”

The actor mogul moved back around the table, taking the seat Harry quickly vacated for him, and then, all of a sudden, Louis was sitting there facing a three star judging panel that was both a fantasy and a shit-bricking nightmare. He didn’t dare pick up his tea because he knew his hands would shake something awful. Harry was going to lose a pair of his favourite jeans for this ( _accidentally_ , of course). As he stared back, he got the distinct impression he had been a topic of conversation more than once around this table and that they were waiting to see if he lived up to the hype. Louis didn’t know quite how to deal with that.

“I think you may have traumatised him dear,” Patrick muttered, nudging Ian’s arm with great amusement. “I don’t think he’s used to having old queens fawn over him.” Michael snorted into his tea.

“I’m sorry,” Louis managed to choke out, voice embarrassingly squeaky, “it’s just… I seem to be having tea with Gandalf, Professor X and Dumbledore, one of which just called me pretty. Forgive my inertia; I’m just trying to work out what kind of hallucinogenic was slipped into my breakfast this morning. For all I know I’m having a mental conversation with three pigeons on Tower Bridge. If Harry Potter bursts in here riding a Nazgul and offering me a piece of jewellery I will probably call the white coats on myself.”

Patrick and Ian threw their heads back in laughter and that was that. Louis was welcomed into their weird but wonderful little fold. For the first half hour he mainly sat and listened as they discussed matters pertaining to the entertainment industry. There was something quite awe-inspiring about seeing Harry in this setting – speaking so passionately and knowledgably about his profession. Sure, Harry talked to Louis about his job everyday but it was much different hearing him talk about his job to other people within the profession – there was less simplication, less screening. Louis found himself listening with the sort of pride he never expected to feel so deeply. The other three men were also, as one would expect, amusing and articulate in their points of view. Harry certainly held his own against them and Louis found himself watching him with the sort of embarrassing adoration Disney would be proud of. What made it even better was that the older men respectfully listened to what Harry had to say and took cues from him instead of pandering to him momentarily and moving on. It was clear they absolutely adored Harry to pieces, which, in turn made Louis adore him even more.

The industry talk eventually turned, as most conversations do, into gossip. Their tea cups were refilled and Louis started to join in a bit more with the conversation now that it was a less specialised subject. Even if this wasn’t gossip he could really contribute to, he had another role to play; the captive audience and Ian, in particular, took great joy in teasing out gasps of disbelief and ‘no way’s from him. One thing was for certain, if he had ever been uncertain just how much printed in the media was actually rubbish he now knew for sure it was 95 percent. Louis had never felt so English in his life as he dunked a custard cream into his tea and listened in rapture to the conversation turn from entertainment scandal to government scandal to moaning about the state of the economy – and the weather, of course.

They stayed for a couple of hours, including indulging in a hearty lunch and helping organise some gifts for a local hospice, before Harry insisted that they ought to think about heading home before rush hour hit. Nothing was more uncomfortable than squeezing into and over-crowded hot tube train that stank of sweat and stale perfume. As Harry made his goodbyes to Patrick and Michael out on the patio, Ian held Louis back for a moment, “Louis, I’m sure it’s unnecessary to say, but Harry is one of the nicest and sweetest lads I’ve ever had the pleasure to acquaint myself with and I know he has been tits over arse for you for a long time. Please, for everyone’s sake, be careful with his heart.”

Louis swallowed hard, looking up into those famous wild grey eyes and nodded, scarcely believing he was getting _that_ talk from Gandalf.

“Good lad,” Ian patted his back fondly. “Now I do hope this visit wasn’t a one off. You have a lovely wit about you and I find intelligent conversation that does not centre on acting very refreshing indeed.”

Louis smiled, “If you ever have trouble sleeping, give me a call and I’ll talk Quantum Theory until your ears bleed.”

Ian chuckled long and deep, “Alas, I think I would find that subject quite stimulating rather than sedating. However, I shall keep your offer in mind.”

He started to walk Louis out to the front door, following the path of the others, before he suddenly paused for a moment, like he’d had an afterthought, “Oh, and Louis… uh… one last little request, if you don’t mind.”

Louis raised an eyebrow, wondering just what it could be this time; be respectful of Harry’s fans? Don’t mention today’s get-together to the public? Support a local theatre? “Don’t kill Harry when you see Twitter.”

“What? _Why_?” Louis’s eyes immediately narrowed suspiciously and his hand drifted up to his pocket.

Ian chuckled, “It’s nothing bad I promise but I do believe it’s caused a bit of a stir online.”

“ _Harold_!” He yelled out, sounding uncannily like Mrs Weasley, “What have you been up to on Twitter?!”

There was a short pause and then, “Nothing, dear!” in a tone that screamed _uh oh I’m in trouble_.

“I cannot promise you anything,” Louis replied evenly to Ian before trudging determinedly to the front door. He, however, waited until they were out of sight of the house to switch on his phone and lo and behold there was an alert from @Harry_Styles.

 

**@Harry_Styles: Best moment ever, “Oh my god it’s bloody Gandalf”, never ever forgetting. #PMSL**

 

Judging by the trends, it seemed Harry’s fans had put two and two together - possibly because the two of them had been spotted travelling together earlier - and had worked out it was a quote of Louis. #yerawizardlouis #itsbloodygandalf #larrydate and #larrystylison were trending worldwide. The latter two hashtags rung a bell though. _Larry_ … _Larry_ … where had he heard that name before? He thought hard, running back over the last few conversations he’d had, trying to match the voice to the words. Harry? No. Zayn? No. Perrie? No, no, it was definitely a guy. Niall? No. Cole? Wait! _Cole_... _“I’m rooting for Larry.”_

Louis’s breath stuttered in his chest. _Oh god_. Those had been Cole’s parting words. The very last thing he’d ever said to Louis’s face; Larry. Louis could remember being confused at the time, thinking he must have misheard but… maybe not.

“Harry?” He breathed out, grabbing at Harry’s arm. He needed confirmation. He needed it now. Why so desperately, he didn’t know, but it was suddenly as important as breathing. “Is Larry Stylinson our ship name? Like Brangelina or,” he cringed, “Kimye?”

“Uh…” Harry was suddenly looking away down the road, his cheeks pinking up, “Yeah,” he nodded sheepishly, “kind of.”

Louis’s mind was suddenly whirring. If that _had_ been what Cole was referring to then how did Cole, of all people, even know about it in the first place? Surely it was only something Harry’s deepest fans would know about. After all, he, Louis, one of the actual parties, hadn’t even known. Plus, surely it was a new thing? When would Cole have even seen it? He’d been in Syria since April with no internet.

“When did we get that name?” He croaked, quite sure in thinking this had to be a coincidence but not quite able to let go of the small possibility that Cole might have given them his blessing.

Harry looked hesitant about discussing the name any further but answered anyway, seemingly understanding it was important for Louis to know, “Uh… I think when I talked about you in that TV interview… you know… way back when I was shooting in Guadeloupe. The name trended on Twitter that night.”

Louis sighed shakily, so Cole _had_ had the opportunity to see it. His friend had always been a bit of a Tweeter and it wouldn’t be surprising if he’d seen the trend on that particular night – especially as he’d tweeted some comments to Harry about the interview after it had finished airing. Plus, he had teased Louis rotten about the interview the next day – so maybe that’s what had spurred it on, learning he and Harry had a ‘ship name’. Louis swallowed hard… and if Cole’s very last words to him had been “I’m rooting for Larry” then... He wanted them to get together - so much so that he had made sure he hadn’t left for war and possible death without Louis knowing that. _Fuck_. It was such an amazing and touching little thought that it drew tears to his eyes.

“Louis, are you alright?” Harry insisted, taking hold of his hands with worry etched into his face as Louis jerked out of his thoughts. “It’s just a silly name,” he continued to babble, “most of them consider us a bromance and they certainly don’t know for sure that we’re together-”

“No, it’s not that,” Louis interrupted, shaking his head, “I think having a ship name is quite nice actually – means you’ve made it as a celebrity. No, I was just wondering about it because… I kind of just realised something that I never expected to. It’s a good something,” he added when Harry’s concern did not shift, “I promise.”

Still not convinced, Harry cupped Louis’s face and stroked his thumb over the corner of Louis’s left eye where tears had gathered, “But you look upset.”

“Good upset, honestly,” Louis insisted. “I just remembered something Cole said to me and it suddenly makes sense. That’s all. Now come on, let’s hurry up. That looks like our train coming in and god knows when the next one will be.” He started walking away before Harry could protest again, suddenly feeling lighter than ever before.

 

 


	14. Chapter 13

Louis’s 30th was something of a sore topic but one which couldn’t be avoided much longer. The idea of leaving his twenties behind and entering the beginning of middle-age was utterly depressing hence why he didn’t want to think about it at all. In fact, he had long planned on letting the day slip past as innocuously as possible. However, with Harry and an army of friends around him, that was not ever going to happen. To his surprise, though, they did manage to keep all their plans completely secret from him. Although he felt he should have been suspicious when Harry insisted they didn’t go to his mum’s until Christmas morning (as Louis had taken him up on his offer) and spend Christmas Eve (Louis’s birthday) at home. “I know you want to forget it’s happening,” Harry had teased him as they decorated the Christmas tree, “but it’s a special day so at least let me take you out for a nice meal. After that you can mope about the house and whine about how your life is almost over.”

“Fine, but nothing too fancy,” Louis had grumbled back as he fumbled around trying to untangle two strings of lights. It was never going to happen, this was _Harry_ who could never do anything by halves – especially when it came to Louis. Still, Louis managed to be taken by complete surprise, which is what everyone wanted anyway.

As the office closed for Christmas on the 23rd, Louis slept in until nine on his birthday, when he was woken by a soft ‘Happy Birthday love’. He cracked his eyes open and squinted into the gloom to see Harry hovering next to the bed with a breakfast tray. Sleepy in the happy sense rather than groggy, Louis had stretched languidly as the delicious smell of bacon wafted downwards and then slowly pushed himself upright to receive his treat. Sometimes he marvelled at just how thoughtful and lovely Harry was.

“One bacon, sausage and egg sandwich and a big mug of tea,” Harry announced, setting the tray down carefully once Louis was in a seated position. Louis stomach rumbled in appreciation, it looked absolutely delicious.

“Mmm, thank you,” Louis groaned happily, making a move for the tea, “If this becomes more frequent in the future then I think I might just keep you around forever.”  
Harry looked way too pleased by the silly sentiment and Louis felt a momentary flash of worry that he didn’t tell Harry enough about how much he likes and appreciates him. He vowed to make an active increase in future because this relationship was not one-sided. Louis had a problem with sex, not romance.

Once he had tucked in, Harry picked up a pile of letters and presents that had been resting on the floor, placing them at the foot of mattress, before crawling over Louis’s legs onto the free side of the bed. Once he was comfortable on top of the covers, he helped himself to the second mug that was sitting on the tray and took a cautious sip. Dressed in little more than a pair of boxers and an old t-shirt, his warm weight and heady scent was pleasantly familiar and Louis felt something knot up in his lower abdomen. It was then that it suddenly struck him how little had actually changed between them. This was something they had done for years – spending important days together, laying in bed with cups of tea, perfectly comfortable and relaxed – the only real difference was their relationship had a different name and Louis could get a kiss if he wanted one. Which he rather fancied right there and then, although he really ought to brush his teeth first. He shook his head at himself, calling himself a fool for being so clueless for so long. No wonder Harry had never given up hope… They had been in a relationship for years – they just hadn’t made it sexual or given it it’s proper name. In that instant Louis felt an overwhelming mix of guilt, excitement and contentedness. Harry must have been driven mad with Louis’s slow rise to realisation. Pushing the thoughts away because he didn’t want to feel bad on his birthday he turned his attention to Harry’s plate, or lack there of.

“Aren’t you having something too?” He nodded to his own plate.

“Had my breakfast about an hour ago,” Harry replied with a low chuckle, “I’m good.” For a few moments he sipped his tea, seemingly enjoying the quiet, and then he leaned forward to pick up the pile of envelopes. “I’ve just remembered,” he said, sounding a bit surprised at himself, “I wasn’t here for your last birthday, was I?” Despite not having officially lived together before the previous summer, Harry had spent so much time at Louis’s house it was like he actually had lived here for years. In fact, the only real difference is that he now stayed over night – well, a lot more than he used to anyway as he had kipped overnight on many occasion. Regardless of living arrangements, ever since moving to London, Louis’s birthdays had become a tradition where Harry would either stay over or arrive early and make Louis a nice breakfast and then watch him open his presents. Reciprocation was difficult as Harry was usually away on location for his own – a problem with having a birthday in prime shooting season – but they few times he hadn’t been Louis had done the same. Over the last few years they had turned elements into a bit of a game such as trying to guess who the card was from just by the writing on the front (and the postmark). They also tried to guess the present-giver by the wrapping paper and the level of neatness it was put on by.

Harry picked up the top envelope on the current pile of cards. It was white and non-descript, offering no instant clues. “Oh, by the way,” said Harry, “today’s post isn’t here yet, this all arrived over the last few days.” He squinted at the handwriting and then at the stamp. “Holy cow!” he swore as he recognised the unusual postmark, “I think you’ve actually got a card from your Great Uncle Martin.”

Louis’s head snapped around and the food nearly fell out of his mouth in his slack-jaw disbelief. “No bloody way!” He squinted at the envelope but couldn’t tell anything from his current angle. “Cor,’ blimey,” he breathed out, “that would be a first time in years _and_ it’s actually on time.” He wiped his greasy hand on his boxers and reached out for proffered envelope. Indeed, the writing was Martin’s traditional loopy scrawl and the postmark confirmed his hometown of Brighton. Louis tore it open and smiled. It was a pretty bog-standard card – white with a big 30 on it with lots of stars and banners – the usual. Inside it simply read _To Louis, Happy 30 th, best wishes Uncle Martin_. However, much to his surprise, there was a Marks and Spencer gift card enclosed for thirty quid. “Well… that was nice of him,” he decided slowly, trying to remember the last time he had stepped foot in a Marks store but grateful for the thoughtful gesture anyway. “I’ve been needing some new underwear.”

Harry choked on his tea, “You equate Marks and Sparks with underwear? Really?”

“Doesn’t everybody?” Louis shrugged as he picked up another card, “It’s like… a time-old British tradition. Plus, their stuff is pretty comfortable, which is what you want if you’re spending half your day in an uncomfortable suit.” He shot Harry a smirk and waggled his finger, “Don’t think I don’t know that half of _your_ undies come from Marks. Labels don’t lie, Harold.”

Harry coloured a little but threw back an equally teasing remark of, “To be honest, I didn’t think you would pay that level of attention to my underwear.” He pushed Louis’s finger down and waggled his own eyebrows in a ridiculous manner. Louis couldn’t help but melt a little; he was in love with a complete – but still adorable - wassack.

“Hey,” he struggled to keep a straight face, “you’re always mixing your clothes up with mine. The number of times I’ve gotten a pair of pants out of my drawer only to struggle to get them over my arse… of course I’ve studied the labels.”

Harry was quiet for a moment – too long a moment and Louis’s eyes narrowed suspiciously at the slight glaze to Harry’s eyes, “Are you imagining me in your underwear?”

“Yes,” said Harry wistfully.

Making a show of huffing to cover the fact that his dick had taken mild interest in that, Louis grumbled out, “Well I hope you’re picturing the grimace on my face as my balls are pressed into my anus.”

Harry’s expression was hilarious.

Louis got eleven cards in all through the post - although nothing from his friends who he knew would pop around to deliver theirs by hand throughout the day. Out of those eleven cards, nine held a gift which ended up totalling an amazing £270. To his disappointment, his mother had sent a generic card too with £30 inside but, unlike before, she had signed all the names of the family rather than let them sign themselves. The clear reduction in sentiment hurt a lot but Louis determinedly didn’t dwell on it. The tension between them was partly his fault anyway for not telling them the truth about what happened. He had to expect things like this until one of them took the first step. Aside from the cards, there were also some physical presents to open; an expensive looking painting from his great grandmother – probably an heirloom – a brand new set of loupes, a small collection of his Grandmother’s favourite cookbooks and a case of his favourite white wine from his grandfather, a brand new set of crystals from his lab team, an expensive wallet from his Nan Poulston, a box of Harrods luxury chocolates from his sister Lottie and a pair of Man United tickets from Sean in Ireland. He was a little overwhelmed by it all to be honest. Normal he just got gift cards.

“And this is from me,” said Harry, offering three small, neatly wrapped boxes once all the other presents had been opened.

“Thank you,” Louis replied softly, taking them carefully so as not to damage them by accident. He felt a little nervous about them for some reason but it was probably down to the fact that this time Harry was giving these as a boyfriend rather than a friend. As per usual they were neatly wrapped and the first box contained a pair of shiny black shoes.

“Holy crap, are this Gucci?” Louis yelped, spying the tag hanging off the label.

“Yeah,” Harry nodded, blushing a little. “I noticed your work shoes were getting a bit scuffed so I thought… you know… I’d get you a nice pair to replace them with.”

“A nice pair,” Louis repeated faintly, hearting hammering a mile a minute at the thought of how big the gesture truly was, “these are a _really_ expensive nice pair of shoes.”

“Not really an issue for me,” Harry shrugged, “and I know you could have bought them yourself but… well, a present is a present, plus… you’re kind of my boyfriend so I wanted to go a bit different than the usual Armani toiletries route. Do you like them?”

“I love them, Haz,” Louis croaked, with the utmost heartfelt sincerity. He leaned over and kissed Harry’s cheek. “Thank you. I’m hoping the other two fings are just shoe polish and a brush and not something equally as expensive.”

Harry chuckled and played with the cuff of his boxers, a blush high in his cheeks, “I can’t make any promises.”

The second box contained a couple of jumpers; two grey, one navy blue and one a soft cream – none of them cheap but nowhere near as expensive as the shoes. “Aww are you trying to dress me now,” he teased, delighting in the way Harry’s blush intensified, “I love them, thanks.” Harry mumbled something unintelligible and fixated of a stray thread he’s just pulled.

The last box contained a stunning black and silver watch. Louis’s heart was in his throat. “Oh Harry, it’s gorgeous,” he whispered, carefully plucking it out from it’s box.

“I know your last one broke a few years ago and you never replaced it,” Harry explained quietly.

“Yeah, I usually just check my phone these days,” Louis concurred softly, “but it’s not the same as having a watch… I…” he swallowed hard, “ _thank you_. Thank you again.”

He turned to catch Harry’s gaze, which was soft and full of a tenderness that made Louis’s stomach swoop. He leaned forward, stiltedly at first before finding his confidence, and pressed their lips together in a gentle kiss, trying to convey just how much he appreciated the gesture and Harry’s thoughtfulness. One of Harry’s hands came up to cup his cheek, thumb stroking almost reverently over his morning stubble as their mouths moved. Louis shivered, suddenly feeling both precious and incredibly vulnerable. He slid his own hand up into Harry’s hair to find an anchor and the slight tug of his fingers elicited a low groan that Louis felt all the way to his toes. _Fuck_. He did it again and Harry’s throat vibrated in the most intoxicating way. Louis pulled away for a second to look down into hooded eyes, puffed lips and rosy cheeks. He’d done that. He had had that affect on Harry. In almost wonder, he ran his fingers over Harry’s mouth, feeling the plumpness of his lips. He leaned down again and kissed them, dragging the plumpness of the lower between his own. Harry tasted faintly of toothpaste and it reminded him his own breath might not be so nice. However, Harry didn’t seem to care. He slipped his arms around Louis’s shoulder and out of instinct Louis rose up onto his knees, shuffling around until he was hovering over Harry’s lap for a more comfortable angle. Then he slowly lowered until he was perched mid thigh and their mouths started to work furiously. As the passion increased, Harry’s hands began to gently wander downwards, stroking at Louis’s sides and back. To his great surprise, Louis did not feel even a tendril of panic at the touch; he actually willed them to go lower - he hadn’t felt this alive in years. Harry’s hands finally settled on his lower back, just as Louis bravely pushed his tongue forward. The subsequent groan hit Louis right in the lower vitals and instead of retreating he quickly rose up on his knees so Harry’s hands slid down to cup his bum. Almost instantly, Harry froze. “S’okay,” Louis slurred as he valiantly kept kissing Harry’s ever slowing mouth, he didn’t want to stop, he wanted to see how far he could go – the taste of normality too sweet to let go. “Keep going.”

But Harry didn’t and he tried to pull back but couldn’t because of the headboard.

Eventually Louis pulled away and stared entreatingly down into Harry’s eyes, begging him not to challenge him – not to talk him out of this. “ _Please_.”

For a long moment Harry stared back at him, the war in his eyes playing out vividly. Then he moved and Louis gasped as he was suddenly pushed down onto his back and Harry hovered over him, knees slotting between the space of Louis’s thighs. For a fleeting moment Louis was stunned by the incredibly vulnerable expression on Harry’s face, as though the younger actor knew how exactly how big this moment was and wasn’t sure he was strong or worthy enough to handle it. As his heart leapt into his throat, Louis reached up to tuck a stray lock of hair soothingly behind Harry’s ear, “I trust you,” he croaked.

Harry’s eyes shimmered and Louis wrapped his arms around his neck, pulling him in. Harry fell easily. For a minute they just kissed, getting back into the rhythm, then Harry’s mouth started to make it’s way down, kissing at the corner of Louis’s mouth, then his chin, jaw and collarbone. Louis wriggled under the sensations – both overwhelmed and desperate for more. It had been too long… too long since he’d felt like this. In fact, he’d thought he’d never be able to have this again – certainly not so easily and without a shred of counselling. Maybe it really was only women he was affected by sexually. In that case, just how much time had Harry and he lost unnecessarily because he was too much of a coward to check? The thought had him choking up and Harry immediately froze.

“Lou?”

“M’ okay,” Louis waved him off, baring his neck again in encouragement. Harry was not reassured though.

“No you’re not,” he made a move to slide off, “you look ready to cry.”

Louis fisted Harry’s shirt to keep him where he was, “It’s not what you think, promise.”

“Then what is it?” Harry asked softly.

Louis swallowed hard, “I was just thinking about how easy this is – how I don’t feel a shred of panic and… that maybe my intimacy issues are only with women. If that is the case, how much time have I let us waste?”

Harry relaxed and rested his body on his left elbow, using the other hand to stroke Louis’s cheek. “You haven’t wasted a moment. You’ve needed every second to get to this point. Even if it’s true that your intimacy issues are reserved for women only, you’ve needed the time to get to the point of being able to confront that reality. All and all, I think you’ve been very brave considering.”

“You think?” Louis worried his lip.

“I do,” Harry nodded kindly.

Louis swallowed again, brushing some of Harry’s curls back, “Sometimes you’re so understanding and sweet that I wonder if you’re even real.”

Harry ducked his head, smiling a little bashfully. When he looked up again, Louis shot him a crooked smile. “Come here.”

Harry shifted and ducked down, settling them into another kiss. When they next paused for breath, Louis found the courage to whisper his last hesitance, feeling it was important to remind Harry, “I’ve never been with a man before.” He expected Harry to groan or to sigh and roll off of him and them to begin another round of ‘I want to try though, please let me’. He didn’t expect Harry to smile so tenderly and kiss his nose with a gentle, “Then we take it slow.”

Slow meant kissing – _passionate_ kissing but kissing all the same. It also meant gentle rolls of hips, sliding legs and intense, almost painful humping until Louis was writhing on the edge of his first orgasm in years. Sensing he was struggling to cross the threshold, Harry slid his palm into Louis boxers and with two firm strokes brought him keening over the edge in five long spurts. Then he kissed him until the high wore off and the awkwardness of sharing their first orgasm together was over.

“You okay?” Harry murmured, kissing Louis’s forehead.

Louis nodded but the emotional upheaval of the moment was catching up and he choked on a sob.

“Hey, hey, ssh, you’re okay, you’re okay,” Harry soothed, holding him tighter and peppering kisses into his hair. “These good tears or bad?”

“Good,” Louis managed to choke out and Harry nodded, “Let them all out then.” So Louis did – relief and elation and seven years of anxiety bubbling up in a stream of salt and slobber.

Once Louis had had a good cry and they’d talked the event over, they got up, changed their boxers and carried their mugs down to the kitchen. There they shared another cup of tea as Louis answered his well-wishing texts. Afterwards, Harry asked him what he wanted to do for the day – he had booked a restaurant for their evening meal but it was Louis’s choice as to what he wanted to do until then. Louis decided he wanted some simple pleasures; to have a nice long bath and then maybe go and catch a movie. So that is what they did. After the movie, a generic action thriller starring Will Smith, they caught a late lunch at Pizza Express before taking the a long route home.

When they got back they found the post had been delivered so Louis spent some time opening even more cards. He nearly ended up choking to death while laughing at Harry’s expression when he saw the card from the Queen. It was a fact they seldom discussed because, for Louis, it felt like a world away, but he was technically related to Queen Elizabeth II. Okay, so it was quite a distant relationship, he was something like the Queen’s Grandfather’s (King Edward VII) sister’s Great Great Great Grandson, but Queen usually always sent him a hand-written card for his birthday. She had a bit of a soft spot for him ever since he had accompanied his father (he had been three at the time) to a royal event. Louis had been quite vocal and blunt at that age and in the middle of some pompous Lord delivering the world’s most long-winded speech he’d called out from behind someone’s chair, “Daddy this is boring, can we go feed the pigeons now?” It had caused a lot of hilarity amongst the audience – including the queen who had uncharacteristically burst into gales of laughter and requested one of the guardsmen to take Louis out to play with the Corgis. She had later joined him and had personally taken him down to meet some of the horses at the Royal Mews. She had even encouraged him to have a ride on one, which had begun his love affair of horses – a love which he seldom had time to enjoy at all these days. After that, he had always received a hand-written card from her on his birthday and the ten times he had met her since that first meeting she had always actively stopped to talk to him - always asked how he was getting on at school/work etc. The last time he had actually seen her face-to-face was five years ago when she invited him to sit next to her at the Royal Ascot after spying him in the crowd. She’d kept him in stitches the entire time. The Queen, as it had been rightfully reported over the last few years, had a delightfully sarcastic and witty sense of humour. And though he may not be a royalist by nature, he certainly would defend her to the ends of the earth.

After another cup of tea and a few phones calls to various friends, it was time to get ready for dinner. To his surprise, Harry was pretty open with the details, “Don’t worry about dressing up, it’s just a nice little Italian in Battersea we’re going to so smart-casual will be fine. It’s a little modest for a restaurant but their food is out of this world. I actually used to go there a lot when I had the flat – I think it’s why I put on that stone before Exodus.”

Louis giggled, remembering the ridiculous crash diet Harry had had to go on to slim down for his costume. He had been absolutely miserable for those three months especially because the vegetable smoothies had given him the awful runs. You always know you have real friends when they are willing to run to Tesco at eight o’clock at night for a packet of Imodium, then travel half an hour to your flat in Brixton and present not only the Imodium but also a box of blackcurrent ORS and a four-roll pack of double quilted toilet paper. These amazing friends will also spare you from future anecdotal jokes about those bad times out of pure sympathy and compassion.

It took them only about twenty five minutes to get to Battersea. What with it being Christmas Eve the stations were quite empty as people spent the evening preparing for Christmas the next day. The trains were also on time, which was probably a first. As they travelled they chatted and laughed, for once not even thinking about the press or fans that may be lurking. It was so natural and normal that Louis didn’t even consider that it may be anything other than the two of them having a romantic meal together. With the lack of suspicious behaviour, Harry just didn’t raise his suspicions. Louis really should have known to expect a welcome committee. The restaurant was, indeed, quite a modest little place – all green, white and red frontage and sat sandwiched in a shopping court in one of the lesser prosperous areas of London. However, the warm light from the windows beckoned them inside and Harry guided Louis in through the door. He was blindsided instantly by bright light, excessive warmth and noise – specifically cheering. He blinked stupidly as he took in the scene. One whole side of the restaurant was taken up by about eight tables cramped together and full of some of the most recognisable faces in Louis’s life, who beamed at him all ridiculously like he was the sun to their planetary orbit.

“You little shit,” Louis hissed, elbowing Harry gently in the stomach in attempt to not tear up.

“Like we would let you have a quiet 30th,” Harry laughed. “Get over there, old man.”

Louis looked around at the sea of faces again. The usual were there, Niall, Barbara, Liam, Perrie, Zayn, Danielle, but there was also, Charlie, Jack, a very pregnant Amelia, his full lab contingency, some of his charity football team, his Grandfather and… holy crap, his sister _Lottie_.”

She waved at him with a sheepish smile and a lump rose in his throat. She had actually come along. Despite not being on great terms with him because of Eleanor and how he felt about her husband, she had come along to celebrate his birthday. He made a beeline straight for her and she seemed to get how much he appreciated the effort because she mumbled into his hug, “I couldn’t allow the whole family to let you down.” There was something in her tone that gave him pause for thought, almost like she was telling him she knew something about the past and was sorry for not having automatically been on his side. But that was absurd, how the hell would she know? Harry wouldn’t have told her, neither would his Grandfather. He shrugged it off and went around the table greeting everyone and getting hugged to death. Eventually he sat down in the middle of the table and the celebrations began.

It was a brilliant laugh; the food was excellent, the wine was flowing, the company was hilarious, he received a mountain of presents, which his Grandfather promised to drop off at home for him and, at the very end of the meal, the waiters carried out a huge cake in the shape of a giant circuit board and they all sang happy birthday horridly out of key. It was the best birthday Louis had ever had and it only got better when Niall informed him that the night wasn’t over yet. They had hired a club for a foam party and invited a whole mass of famous faces Louis had made friends with over the years. This included James Corden and James McAvoy, who were already half naked and wasted by the time they’d gotten there, although, to be honest, most of the other partiers were also in that state too. It was a bloody riot. Louis hd never loved his friends so much than right now. The dance floor was a mass of foam and bubbles, there was glitter and paint being thrown in every direction and the DJ was mixing some killer tunes. Louis kicked off his shoes and with childish glee he joined Niall in diving straight into the mess. The others followed a bit more sedately.

Over the course of the night Louis got so many free cocktails he actually lost count and then lost the ability to count. He danced and danced and threw foam and glitter until he felt three rather than thirty. At midnight they wheeled out a huge cake with live sparklers spelling 30 in big numerals. It took a very wobbly and giggly Louis a good minute to blow them all out and both Harry and Liam had to help. Once again Happy Birthday was sung to him then the night became a blur.   
Four o’clock found him laying in the middle of the dance floor, giggling inanely as he demonstrated to no one in particular how to make the perfect foam angel.

“Having fun?” Harry chuckled fondly, reaching down to help him up.

“The best!” Louis whooped before pulling a rather _too_ clean Harry down into the foam and kissing him sloppily. It didn’t last very long as Harry pulled away with the most adorable blush, which was emphasised by the multi-coloured disco lights.

“Uh babe,” he chuckled nervously, glancing around, “this isn’t really the place....”

Louis giggled and flopped onto his back, laying spread-eagled and welcoming, “Then take me home and ravish me my darling prince.”

Harry choked but then laughed and said, “How about I take you home, feed you a litre of water and tuck you into bed?”

Louis pouted, “It’s too early to go home yet – plenty of time to party!”

“It’s ten past four darling, the club wants to close soon and we promised to be at mum’s by three tomorrow – uh, _today_.”

Louis’s heart filled with delight as he remembered, “Christmas!”

“Yes!” Harry laughed, “It’s Christmas but if you don’t go to sleep Santa won’t come.”

“Santa’s not real,” Louis snorted, “but yes, let’s go home then. I want to enjoy Christmas dinner tomorrow.”

 

~*~

 

Even with the water Harry got him to drink, Louis woke up with a horrid hangover, which was annoying because it meant he didn’t appreciate waking up in Harry’s arms as much as he should have been able to. The sticky heat and the firm enclosure of Harry’s embrace made his sickly feeling almost suffocating. To make matters worse, the moment Harry felt him move he was spitting out the excuses of how Louis had begged him to stay (which Louis could remember quite well, much to his embarrassment) and that he felt it important to do so in case Louis choked on his own vomit. His voice, way too loud, made Louis’s head thump harder so he put a hand over his mouth to shut him up, which turned into a bit of an unintended slap because Louis’s coordination was always shit with a hangover.

“It’s fine…” he’d groaned into Harry’s chest, “nice even. We should do this more often but could you please be quiet for now and let me die in peace?” He swallowed back a wave of nausea and added with as much humour as he could muster, “Oh and Merry Christmas.”

His hand slipped off Harry’s mouth as Harry’s laughter started to tickle his palm. “Merry Christmas,” The actor chuckled, his voice low and throaty and way too sexy for Louis to deal with right now. Harry then pressed a soft kiss to Louis’s cheek and nuzzled into his neck and Louis really wished he wasn’t hungover. “Did you have a good birthday?”

Louis mmmed and managed a smile, because, regardless of his hangover, he did have a very good time yesterday, “Yeah I did, thanks. It was kind of perfect actually. A nice mix of easy going and fun – just what I didn’t know I needed.”

“I’m glad,” Harry hummed, sitting up a bit and resting his head on his palm. “That was the idea; easy-going and fun. Also, I shouldn’t take much of the credit. Dinner was my idea in conjunction with your Grandfather and the club thing was entirely Liam and Niall.”

Louis smiled as the memories came floating back of everyone sitting around the table. Then he remembered a particularly unexpected face and the weird thing she’s said to him about not wanting the whole family to let him done. He’d been too busy last night to worry if someone had been blabbing – even with good intention – and he turned to Harry sharply. “Hey, was it you who coerced Lottie into coming?”

Harry hesitated and Louis held his breath, Harry had promised not to say anything… “Yeah, kinda, but she didn’t really need any convincing. I sent her an invitation in the post and she RSVPed.”

“Oh,” Louis let out a long breath, “That was it?”

“Yeah,” Harry nodded, no hint of a half-truth in his expression, although he did seem a little uncomfortable, “I admit I was a little surprised she responded but pleased too.”

“Okay…” he wanted to ask Harry why he’d done it but he knew the answer and it had turned out okay. They had talked over dinner – nothing too heavy just polite and easy – and had agreed to have dinner together in the New Year. The question he really wanted to ask was. “Was she the only family member you invited?”

He could see the answer on Harry’s face the moment he asked and he nearly choked trying to swallow down the instant hurt. Harry _had_ invited his mum but she had turned the invitation down.

“There is a small chance that the invite got lost in the post,” Harry squeaked, in attempt to console him.

“It’s okay, Haz,” he sighed, “it’s fine. In fact, it was probably for the best. Her presence might have lowered the mood.” He massaged his throbbing temples, hoping to subtly change the topic of conversation by appealing to Harry’s instinctive sense of concern. It worked perfectly.

“Hangover bad?” Harry swept some of Louis’s fringe off of his forehead sympathetically. “I can call mum and tell her to expect up to be a few hours extra if you need some more time to sleep it off...?”

“Nah, don’t do that,” Louis negated quickly, hating the mere idea of his self-induced-bad-health being the reason Anne might have to change her plans. “Some painkillers and food should sort me right out.”

“I’ll make a start on breakfast then,” Harry chuckled warmly in his ear “come downstairs when you feel up to it.”

As the bed dipped Louis couldn’t help but raise himself up on one elbow and his eyes were drawn to Harry’s pert boxer-clad buttocks swaying their way out of the room. Sure, he loved Harry for a thousand and one reasons other than his pretty face but he couldn’t help but feel a little smug at just how hot his boyfriend’s body was too. He really lucked out in life.

As though he could feel Louis’s gaze, Harry wriggled his bum as he reached the door, turned to cast a cheeky wink behind him and left with a low, pleased chuckle. Flushing, Louis flopped back and grinned up at the ceiling. Yeah, he had really lucked out with this one.

After some painkillers, two slices of toast, a large glass of freshly squeezed orange juice and a very hot shower he was feeling much better. As he got dressed, he sent round a group text and a public tweet thanking everyone for the great birthday and wishing them all a Merry Christmas. Then he returned downstairs so that the two of them could open their gifts before heading out. Harry was already lounged out on the sofa, looking soft and cuddly in a black t-shirt and grey cardigan as he played with his phone. Next to him the Christmas tree twinkled beautifully in the light coming from the front window and the array of presents underneath them sent Louis hurtling back to his childhood – the one day of the year guaranteed to be okay because excitement was catching. Harry’s eyes lit up and then softened as Louis stepped into the room. “You look gorgeous,” he complimented in a rumbling voice, placing his phone into the coffee table so to give Louis his utmost attention. Louis blushed and looked down at himself. It wasn’t like he was wearing anything special; just the long slim-fit grey jumper (from Harry) and a pair of dark navy jeans (from Amelia) he’d been given for his birthday yesterday. He’d never been a big jean wearer, although he had had Harry’s reaction to the pair he’d worn to Niall’s stag in mind when he chose them to wear today. But really, except for the type of material, his outfit wasn’t far off what he usually wore around the house yet the appreciation was genuine on Harry’s face. Biting his lip, Louis walked over to the couch and clambered onto Harry’s lap, kissing him gently. “Thank you,” he mumbled as their lips moved, “and Merry Christmas.”

“Mmmph mmmifh,” Harry agreed, slipping his hands into Louis’s hair as he deepened the kiss.   
The slightly rough slide of tongue drew an unexpected guttural groan of pleasure from Louis and he wasn’t sure who it surprised more, him or Harry. Instinctively, Louis rose up on his knees and as he tried to deepen the kiss even more he inadvertently pushed Harry back onto the couch RomCom style.

“Okay, okay,” Harry squeaked as he quickly pulled away and gently pushed Louis a few inches back from his crotch, which had grown interested in the proceedings, “as much as I hate saying this, we really can’t afford to get carried away. If we want to make it to Holmes Chapel in time then we’re going to have to get going soon.”

“Okay,” Louis chuckled, clambering off so Harry could have a private moment to adjust. He cleared the coffee table, pushed it closer to the couch and started to lay the presents on it. Once he was finished he pushed Harry’s legs off the sofa and took a seat. Being thirty (and almost thirty), their piles of presents weren’t exactly sky high. They were full of the usual assortment of DVDs, clothes, wine, toiletries, upmarket gift-sets and cutesy odd-bits that they’d offhandedly mentioned liking over the year. On top of a few stray bits and bobs, Harry had bought Louis the new Man U strip and some pretty sweet concert tickets to see Mumford and Sons while Louis had done similar by getting Harry tickets to see André Rieu in Maastricht - including flights and an overnight stay at a nice hotel. But it was the last tiny thing that got Harry from chattering excitedly to welling up with tears – a simple box of picture hooks. “This house is as much your home as it is mine now,” Louis explained when Harry had initially just looked at him blankly. “So it’s about time it had a little bit of you in it other than clothes and toothbrushes. When we’re up in Holmes Chapel have a look through the stuff you’re storing there and bring some of it back.”

“Oh my god. A-a-a-are you sure?” Harry had breathed out, his lower lip wobbling like a toddler about to cry.

“ _Yes_ ,” Louis chuckled as Harry all but leapt on him, kissing and hugging him hard. Sometimes it was the simplest of things that meant the most.   
Shortly after throwing away all the loose wrapping they set off for Harry’s Mum’s – Louis taking advantage of Harry driving to sneak an extra hour or so of sleep. The motorways were thankfully quiet and they made good time - turning a potential 3-4 hour drive into only two and three quarters. Although, they did have to make an unscheduled stop at Norton Canes services for Louis to relieve himself – three glasses of liquid will do that to you and he was _thirty_ now. Getting old. Although, not too old he couldn’t stick up for himself by holding up a middle finger to a sniggering Harry as he tried to exact a dignified waddle past the car.

City turned to rural countryside and then to townskirts as they approached Holmes Chapel. They arrived just shy of half three and Louis marvelled at just how little had changed as they drove in through the gates. They’d had the drive done – changed from gravel to monoblock – and the windows looked newer too. Other than that it was straight out of his teenage memory.

Harry’s mum, Anne, had kept the family home, a pretty lime washed manor house, as part of her divorce from Harry’s father. Harry’s father had moved to London to a tidy three bedroom terrace house about half a mile from Louis’s Grandparents. Harry and his sister had spent most of their term time in London with him. Like Louis, they had gone home to their mother during the holidays but, unlike Louis, they’d also gone to Holmes Chapel during term-time weekends too. Louis, Niall and the others had occasionally been invited along for a sort of mini holiday – usually on the long weekends. Louis had always loved coming here, not only because Anne was extraordinary nice, chilled out and very cool, but also because it was such a lovely place to stay. They were smack bang in the countryside – surrounded by fields and woods – and it was so easy to pretend you were living in a J R R Tolkien novel instead of a Charles Dickens’. Many times during their stay they’d camped out in the woods after a day of exploring or swimming in the river. When they were really young teens they had spent the night hours telling stories and munching on pilfered biscuits and fizzy juice. Later on it became their den for sharing illicit bottles of wine, porn mags and rude stories. Those had been good times, memories Louis would treasure forever and probably tell his grandchildren, if he ever had any. He couldn’t help but glance over at Harry and blushed as he thought; if _they_ ever had any.

Harry parked up behind a powder blue Beetle that just had to be Gemma’s. For some reason her presence made Louis feel suddenly nervous. He’d always gotten on well with the older Styles’ child, both of them sharing a sarcastic sense of humour and a love of teasing Harry. Gemma was smart and sweet and sharp but she was also fierce, outspoken and very protective of her brother. She had been known to cut people down to size and scatter the pieces for the public to walk on – that’s why the average person can’t remember James Gardiner. Louis’s stomach turned at the memory of what had happened to the poor sod – who really had had it coming to him but still... The thought of accidentally getting on her wrong side had always been that little bit mess-your-pants kind of terrifying and now he was in a relationship with her brother.

“You look like you’ve just realised you left the gas hob on,” Harry suddenly chuckled, breaking Louis back into the here and now, “what’s going on in your head Tomlinson?”

Louis winced, “Just the usual meeting the family nerves.”

Harry spluttered into laughter, hee-hawing so hard he clutched his chest, “Oh my god, that’s priceless _Lou_!” Louis tried not to sulk as Harry ripped the piss. “I mean, you’ve met my family a hundred times already!”

“Yeah but never as a romantic partner!” Louis protested, feeling that this was beyond valid.

“Christ, what do you think they’re going to do,” Harry mocked, “tie you to a chair, apply the thumbscrews and torture you until they are quite satisfied with your intentions?”

“Gemma is well scary!” Louis argued back. “Don’t you remember what she did to James Gardiner when he insulted your integrity in front of a panel of directors?”

Harry opened his mouth and then paused before wincing, “Oh yeah, I forgot about that poor sod. Isn’t he a council rubbish collector now?” He shook his head in wonder, “yeah, she really cut him down but you’ll be fine. She loves you and she’s happy for us – just like mum is.”

“Really?”

“Yeah,” Harry nodded with gentler smile, “Mum was over the moon when I phoned her a few weeks back and Gemma was like ‘about fucking time Hazface. Took you long enough – just don’t screw it up by going too fast with him. If I end up with someone like Nick for a brother-in-law instead I am not afraid to become an only child.”

Louis choked, “She’s thinking about us getting married already?! It’s only been about two months!”

Harry snorted, “At what point did you forget I’ve been in love with you for over ten years? Now quit stalling. Get in that house.”

It was like coming home. Anne screeched with delight as she came running out of the house to hug her son. Louis almost teared up at the genuine delight on her face as she held Harry close and kissed his cheek. That delight then turned to him, “Ah Louis, it’s only been a year since I last saw you and you’ve grown even more handsome in that short time, what a lucky lad my boy is,” and she wrapped him up in a hug that was way too close to a mother’s love than his emotions could handle. “It’s so good to have you with us,” she whispered into his ear. “I’m so glad Harry managed to win you around. I trust he’s treating you well?” She pulled back to search his face and Louis got the distinct impression that she was genuinely concerned for him.

He smiled shyly, “Perfectly well Mrs Twist, you’ve raised him wonderfully and thank you for letting me come here today.”

“Oh it’s our pleasure; I love a full house, especially at Christmas, and call me Anne for goodness sake! You’re thirty and Mrs Twist makes me feel so old.” They both laughed and Louis relaxed a little more. “Come on in,” said Anne kindly, guiding him towards the front door, I have the kettle on for tea. Black and no sugar if I remember right?”

“Well remembered, indeed” Louis nodded and then suddenly remembered the item on the backseat with a curse, “oh hang on a minute.” He ducked back to the car and retrieved the bunch of flowers he had insisted on bringing along, much to Harry’s counter insistence that it wasn’t necessary. “For you,” he said to Anne, presenting them with a flourish, “as a thank you for letting me interrupt your family time today.”

“Oh Louis,” her face melted as she took them in hand and looked over the red and white rose bouquet, “they are absolutely gorgeous. Thank you.” She pulled him in to her side and kissed his cheek, “and for the record, you _are_ family.”

 

~*~

 

Louis smiled contently as he pulled the cool duvet up to his chin. Out the corner of his vision he could make out Harry stripping and going about his business in the en suite. Today had been the kind of Christmas celebration he’d always dreamed of; fun, laughter, good food and proper banter. Harry’s family had welcomed him to the table like he had always had a seat there and Gemma had been nothing but pleasant to him all day. After dinner, Harry had taken him on late evening wander around the neighbourhood, showing him place of note from his childhood that Louis hadn’t known before. They had snogged under the bridge where Harry had had his first kiss and held hands as they peered into the bakery Harry had once worked in. Suitably tired, they had then headed back to the house and bade everyone goodnight. Of course, Gemma just _had_ to tease them about keeping the noise down to which Harry had gone a little pale as he looked at Louis with unease. But Louis had smiled to show the comment hadn’t unsettled him at all and they headed off up the creaky stairs.

“Happy?” Harry asked as he switched of the bathroom light and padded over to the bed.

“Very,” Louis nodded as Harry clambered into his arms. “It’s been a good day.”

“I’m glad,” said Harry, kissing his cheek.

“You know what will make it even better?”

Harry raised an eyebrow, “What’s that?”

Louis waggled his eyebrows which startled a surprised laugh out of Harry, “One orgasm and you’re hooked,” he teased. Never the less, he rolled over on top and they got off like a pair of giggly young teens trying not to get caught by their mum.  

 

~*~

 

On January 8th, Amelia went into labour. On January 9th at three forty-one in the morning, Robyn Colette Spencer was born; 6lbs 5oz and already the image of her father.

 


	15. Chapter 14

Louis peered out of the windscreen, his stomach turning over as he watched people milling around the entrance, laughing and chatting in their Sunday best.

“Are you _sure_ you want to do this?” Harry asked gently. “Nobody’s is holding a gun to your head. I can drive you home right now if you want.”

“And I can make your excuses,” Lottie offered from the back seat.

Louis swallowed hard, “No. I’m going to do this,” He said determinedly, “I’m going to show her I’m the bigger person here. It’s time to end this for good.”

“Okay,” Harry nodded, “but we’ll leave the moment you want to.”

They climbed out the car and pulled their coats tighter as the breezy January chill rushed through their clothes. Harry locked the car and they crossed the road together, heading straight for the church. It was big and prominent and right in front of the world – trust Eleanor to get married in fake grandeur. Louis didn’t recognise anyone as they drew closer which was a bit of a relief. To be honest, he just wanted to watch from afar, have his attendance noted and leave as quickly as possible.

An usher greeted them at the front door and tried to lead them to the front of the pews once he’d established who they were but Louis firmly refused. As they slipped into pew near the back, Lottie leaned closer to Louis’s ear. “Sure you’re okay?”

He nodded and she looked down at her lap, “I know I said this the other week but I’m really sorry.”

Louis nudged her arm and offered a crooked smile, “I know but it’s as much my fault as anyone’s. _I_ could have told you but I didn’t. You were not to know any different.”

As promised on his birthday, he and Lottie had met up for dinner – just the two of them. It had been a little awkward at first but then Lottie had suddenly burst into apologies and tears and Louis learned that she really did know the truth about Eleanor. As Lottie told it, she had been at a Christmas party and one of Eleanor’s old Uni friends, Claire, had been there too. The woman didn’t know Lottie but Lottie had recognised her distinctive face from the photos Eleanor had used to show her. Naturally, she confirmed it was Claire and politely asked if she still kept in touch with their mutual friend. Claire had nodded, “Oh yes, we keep in touch on the regular. She’s getting married soon, did you know that? Lovely guy actually and someone she actually wants to marry this time.” The last comment had thrown Lottie a little having not expected it at all.

“How do you mean?” She’d asked.

“Well about six or so years back she was engaged to that rich prat, wasn’t she? Oh want was his name now…?”

“ _Louis_?”

“Louis, that’s it!”

Lottie had realised at this point that she hadn’t told Claire she was Louis’s sister and was about to say so when Claire came out with, “Yeah, she did him over good and proper – although he right deserved it.”

“How do you mean?” Lottie had asked slowly, shocked and suddenly very uneasy. “I thought it was the other way around?”

Claire, obviously full of too much wine, had laughed shrilly and said, “He wishes!”

Feigning interest, like this was the juiciest gossip she just had to have, Lottie had pressed for more information, swearing she wouldn’t tell another soul. What Claire had then told her had made her sick to the stomach.

That had all happened about a week before Louis’s birthday and Lottie admitted, “I wasn’t sure about Claire had been telling me the truth until I saw your face at the table after I said about not allowing all the family to let you down.”

It was then that Louis had shared his side of the story and caught her up on what had really happened over the last seven years. Lottie had been shocked to learn that Louis’s Grandfather had known all this time and Cole too but even more shocked at how few others knew the truth too. They cried together and then laughed as Louis admitted it had all turned out for the best. He was with Harry now and was pretty much arse over tit for him. It was the first time he had told anyone this and had regretted it for about 2.3 seconds until Lottie had squealed and hugged him for all her worth saying, “He’s perfect for you Lou. OMG, Larry Stylinson is actually real and Harry Style’s is going to be my brother-in-law. Holy shit, I’m so fucking happy.”

“Hey, hey, it’s a bit early to be talking about wedding bells,” Louis had protested, blushing.

Lottie had just looked at him and snorted, “Yeah you just keep telling yourself that pal while I go shopping for a new hat,” then pressed him for details of how they’d gotten together. She found the stint in jail absolutely hilarious and sat with her chin in her hand as Louis recounted their reunion on the stairs.

When they eventually called it a night, Louis left her with a promise of, “Your husband is a right prat but I promise, for your sake, that I will try to be civil from now on… at least in your company.” Lottie had just shook her head, hugged him and then pushed him out the door. At the end of the day, they were still siblings at heart.

Since then they had phoned twice a week with Lottie agreeing to be part of the support network if Louis wanted to go to Eleanor’s wedding. She personally thought he should have shat on the invite and then shat on her doorstep for good measure but was supportive of whatever decision he made from there on out.

Now they were here, in this cold, echoy church that reeked of irony and falsity, Louis wondered if Lottie had been right about shitting on El’s doorstep.

 

~*~

 

“So you decided not to let us down after all,” Louis gritted his teeth as his mother stopped beside his table.

“I decided to come along,” Louis allowed, forcing himself to look forwards and to stay as calm as possible. Nothing would be gained by making a scene. It had taken all his effort and skill to stay out of her sight at the church. Instead, he had focused on his siblings and tried not to cry at how grown up and beautiful they now looked. Felicity was almost a doppelganger of their mother and she was no longer a teen but a full grown woman he barely recognised. Daisy and Phoebe were a foot taller than the last time he’d seen them and very much young adults now - wearing proper make-up and hair product and emitted a distinct lack of childish innocence. It made Louis feel both sad and proud. Then there was his youngest sister, Doris, who he hadn’t recognised at all and he had clapped a hand over his mouth when Lottie had frowned and told him that no, that wasn’t Eleanor’s cousin, that was _his_ little sister, are you taking the piss? Doris was no longer the pudgy toddler with dark hair and closed in face that he remembered from his last visit but a sprightly little girl with light brown hair and a face unrelatable to his memory. He knew children could change quickly but he didn’t realise it could be _that_ quick. She was definitely not a Tomlinson, that was for sure, she didn’t look like her siblings at all, but she was pretty in her own right.

“Eleanor looks beautiful doesn’t she,” said Jay, in a pointed voice.

Louis glanced over at the top table and resisted pulling her face, “It’s a nice dress,” he offered.

He heard Harry and Lottie snort from either side of his chair.

“You would have made a beautiful couple,” Jay continued as though she hand’t heard him, “it’s just a shame…” she shot Louis a pointed look, “that it never worked out.”

“Yeah, you should really take that up with Eleanor,” Louis retorted before he could stop himself. He felt Harry and Lottie stiffen beside him but he was spared a quizitorial reply from his mother as the bestman tapped on his glass for attention. She hurried away to rejoin her table allowing Louis to breath a little easier.

As the speeches got underway Louis tuned out and spent the time relearning his siblings faces, trying to connect the past with the present. He jolted back to reality when he heard his own name being mentioned and Harry’s sharp intake of breath.

“… left my daughter bereft and thinking she was unfit for love.” Louis rolled his eyes so hard he may have sprained something. “But, as I told her back then, those with the purest hearts will always find happiness in the end.” Harry choked in disbelief and Louis fell a little more in love with him for it. “Today we welcome Richard into our family with wide open arms and hope he’ll be the man my little Eleanor deserves.”

“I hope every tiny inch of him is,” Lottie muttered, a little too loudly, which had both Harry and Louis snorting into their palms. A few heads turned their way, most of them frowning. “For my daughter is one of the cleverest, most beautiful, honest, genuine and loving-”

Louis burst into unexpected laughter and for a second or two he clapped his hand over his mouth to try and muffle the sound but it wasn’t exactly fruitful. This time _everyone_ ’s head snapped around, including Eleanor’s father’s.

“Is there something wrong?” The man called out.

“No, sorry,” Louis replied, holding his hand up in apology, “please continue with your _lovely_ speech.”

Mr Calder peered through his glasses, “Well, well, if it isn’t Louis Tomlinson, the ex who broke my daughter’s heart. We are in your debt. Without your actions Eleanor would never have met Richard.”

“You’re welcome,” Louis gritted out and that should have been the end of things. But it wasn’t, life never played fair.

“I’m surprised you actually came along today. In fact, it was quite brave of you actually.” There was a glint in Mr Calder’s eyes that suggested trouble was ahead. Louis figured now would be a good time to gracefully bow out.

“Yeah, me too, but I wanted to support my sisters who are your daughter’s bridesmaids today.” He stood up.

“That would be a first,” Mr Calder chuckled, “Jay was only just telling me that today is the first time in over a year you’ve seen them.”

Louis gritted his teeth and picked up his jacket and forced himself to walk towards the exit, feeling eighty judging sets of eyes on his back.

“There’s a surprise, you running away when things get a little uncomfortable.”

 _Uh oh_. Louis saw red and spun around. As he did so he saw the panic on Harry’s face and he grudgingly used it to find a little bit of calm within himself. “I’m not running away,” he gritted out, “I am being the bigger person and sparing Eleanor a lot of embarrassment in front of her friends and family. I suggest you do the same, sir, by letting me leave and continuing with your speech.” He turned around again and made a faster beeline for the exit.

“A bigger person would not leave their girlfriend the moment she’s had a miscarriage!”

The silence was deafening and suddenly Louis was a bystander to his own body. He turned slowly. “Yeah,” he said with a calmness he couldn’t equate to, “you should probably ask the father why he did that.”

“Louis,” Eleanor gasped, she looked stricken – and not just because of him saying that in front of everyone. She had finally realised he knew the whole truth.

“I’m sorry,” he said to her, chuckling in disbelief at her shock, “did you really think that after everything you put me through - the cheating, the mockery, the STIs – that I wouldn’t get a paternity test? Did you really think I would take you at your word when you lied to my face time and time again?”

“You’re lying, you didn’t get a paternity test,” she whispered, staring at him, transfixed in horror.

“Not lying at all sweetheart. I have the test results at home to prove it along with the autopsy report that not only states the cause of death was from an STI infection but also that the baby was three weeks younger than you had us believe – which puts conception right smack bang when I was in Germany. I’m good but I’m not good enough to impregnate you from 600 miles away.” He swallowed hard, “I’m sorry, dredging up the past was not my intention nor was ruining your wedding day. I came to support my sisters and find a bit of closure for myself – not to rat you out. However, I think it’s evident where you got your penchant for pushing buttons from.”

“I hate you!” Eleanor suddenly screamed, picking up her plate and throwing it at him. “You always ruin everything!” Louis ducked and it smashed a few feet behind him. Harry looked terrified

“I’m not the one who cheated behind their partner’s back and gave them two STIs for their trouble!” Louis shouted back, “I’m not the one who continued to lie to their partner’s face when they confronted them with proof of said cheating. I’m not the one who spent a whole year laughing behind their partner’s back, mocking them to their friends about stupid they were for not noticing their partner was whoring around. I’m not the one who got pregnant and swore to their partner that despite having been cheating on them, it was definitely their baby while knowing fine well it wasn’t. I wasn’t the one who had a miscarriage and then blamed their partner for it when the cause was the STI picked up from cheating! I’m not the one who later begged their partner to attend their wedding to another man just so that they could feel less guilty about the past – and dismissing the part where she hasn’t uttered one apology in order to earn forgiveness. No, I am not that person. But I am the one who has taken the taken the blame for all your lies and deceit for the past seven years, at the cost of my own family, simply because I didn’t want everyone else to be hurt and humiliated by your behaviour!” He stopped, panting hard and ridiculously buzzed, “Good bye Eleanor, good luck with your marriage. I hope you find happiness at last because I have – I have someone I love so much that it makes what we had, even at it’s best, utterly laughably pathetic.”

Then, with his head held high he marched out of the room. He didn’t stop until the cold night air was making him shiver and the gravel crunched under his shoes. He stopped in the middle of the car park and looked up at the evening sky. Opening his mouth he let out the loudest whoop he could muster and they punched the air.

A soft rumbling laugh filled his ear and Harry’s arms wrapped around his waist, twirling him around. Louis laughed, free and giddy as the world spun.

When his feet slid back onto solid ground he turned and asked, “Worthy of a Bafta?”

“I’d say so,” Harry nodded, grinning as he pulled him into a kiss.

“It was fucking brilliant,” Lottie gushed from behind them, “you should have seen Mr Calder’s face. I thought he was going to go into Cardiac Arrest at the end there.”

“I thought El’s performance was of great note, too” Harry laughed, “she didn’t help herself at all. I mean she could have dismissed everything you said as rubbish but she confirmed it instead.”

“I think it was the shock of me actually doing what she didn’t think I had the guts to do,” Louis chuckled. “Fuck. I feel so bloody liberated!”

“Louis?”

Louis spun around. His mum was hovering at the edge of the gravel, her coat wrapped protectively around her chest and billowing in the wind. In all the years he’d envisioned this moment and how it would go he never anticipated how it actually went. He stood there, looking at her and he didn’t feel a damned thing. He truly didn’t have a word to say to her and he didn’t want to hear a word from her in return. She had chosen to believe Eleanor over him. Her own son. She had believed him capable of abandoned his girlfriend an child in the wake of tragedy… She really didn’t know him at all. He turned and walked away, her shrill pleas falling on his deaf ears. For the first time in his life, she could chase after him.

 

~*~

 

When Niall invited them out to dinner the following week neither he nor Harry thought anything of it.

“Black shirt or dark green?” Harry asked idly, alternatively holding said garment in front of him and frowning at his reflection in the full length mirror.

Louis looked over from where he was styling his hair and smiled, taking a moment to ogle at Harry’s naked, lithe torso. While the regular morning runs kept Louis’ stomach down a few belt notches from his natural go-to weight they had afforded Harry a svelteness that defied his age. He was hot and Louis was at the stage, now, where he felt comfortable appreciating that kind of aesthetic out-with the safety of platonic friendship.   
“Hmm,” he put the tub of wax down and walked around the bed to stand behind his boyfriend. He couldn’t help give in to the temptation to reach out and slide his fingers over Harry’s hips, the skin warm, smooth and taut against his tips. He was definitely getting more confident with this intimacy thing. Harry, in turn, shivered and subtly leaned back into his embrace. “I think,” Louis murmured thoughtfully, standing on tiptoe to peer around Harry’s shoulder, “you should go for… the green.” It would compliment his eyes perfectly.

Harry huffed out a laugh, “Is that because green is your favourite colour or is it because you actually think it would suit me better?”

“I think,” said Louis, resting his cheek against the soft bulk of Harry’s upper arm, “you’ll find that the first reason is why I arrived at the second.” He let Harry slowly turn around in his arms and bit his lip demurely when he saw Harry’s eyes were soft and hooded. A kiss was coming. His stomach actually swooped when Harry’s mouth met his and he idly wondered if the thrill would ever get old. He hoped not. He really hoped not.

“I’ll make you a deal,” Harry mumbled against Louis’s lips, “I’ll wear the green shirt if you…” He trailed off as he kissed his lips again, sucking on the bottom one softly until Louis’ knees felt weak. With one last peck Harry pulled back and said, “wear a set of braces?”

It took a few moments for Louis’ smooch-addled brain to catch up. When it did his head shot up in surprise, “Wait, you want me to wear _braces_ , actual trouser braces?”

“Yeah,” said Harry softly, reaching up to run a hand along Louis’s freshly shaved jaw. “If you wouldn’t mind? I think you look incredible in them.”

“But I haven’t worn them since I was…” Louis trailed off as he realised just how long ago it had been and what it meant in relation to Harry. “Oh you _perve_ ,” he chuckled in absolute delight, slapping at Harry’s chest, “trying to live out your teenage fantasises now that you can?”

Harry shrugged, grinning sheepishly but not apologetically, “Like they say, you don’t get if you don’t ask.”

Louis shook his head, fond as fond can be, “Alright, alright, let me see what I can find. Although I don’t think I’ve seen a pair in my wardrobe since before the turn of the millennium. I’ve probably thrown them out.”

To his surprise, he did find his old collection - in a box right at the back of his wardrobe. For a few minutes he fondly leafed through them, reminiscing of the time when he had genuinely thought these were the coolest thing ever. Eighteen was a strange age, that was certain. There was plenty to choose from; red, blue, green, black, brown, striped, patterned and even rainbow. God knows what he had been thinking with the latter set – they looked fit for a clown costume. In the end he picked a dark grey and white striped pair that would compliment his light grey shirt well – or a least he hoped it would. Harry certainly seemed to think so. He seemed to lose the power of discernible speech the moment he clocked Louis’s full outfit and stumbled out a long, incoherent compliment as toothpaste dribbled down his chin. To be quite frank, Louis rather enjoyed the reaction - it certainly stroked his ego!

Niall had booked a table at Seven Dials – one of his favourite restaurants due to their over-zealous portion sizes. Positioned in the centre of London, it was an ideal meeting point for people who were so spread out in the city that they relied on the Tube to stay connected.   
Being the end of January it was still cold out, dirty frost and salt crunching under their feet. As they headed for Parson’s Green, they continued their week-long debate about Harry’s latest audition for the film _Agnostic_. Louis wasn’t comfortable with the film; he didn’t want to dictate Harry’s career but, as someone who cared, he didn’t want to stand by and not say anything about his concerns. He had read the film script (even though he shouldn’t have) and while he thought it was a brilliant story he couldn’t help but worry that there would be some back lash as it dealt strongly with non-religious beliefs. In some people’s eyes a film wasn’t just a film just like a picture wasn’t just a picture. The last thing he wanted was Harry becoming the target of some misguided martyr group just because he was associated to something that didn’t agree with someone else’s belief system. The country still had issues with Catholics v Protestants without even adding in the current issues with extremist Islam. They were living in dangerous times and words had to be considered carefully. A film like this, no matter how carefully written, would likely raise the hackles of the fanatic groups. Harry had agreed with the dangers to a certain extent but he was also eager to stretch his acting skills with something a lot more hard-hitting than a crime drama. Plus, there was a lot he personally identified with in the story. Therefore it was kind of an once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. So, now, they were trying to weigh up the pros and cons of taking on the project – should Harry be offered the part, that is. There was always the chance he wouldn’t get it; there was some stiff competition for the role, some big names.

As they stepped onto the train their conversation tapered off as some of the teens in the carriage recognised Harry and begged for photos and autographs. They also tried to tie Harry up in conversation too - like if they conversed with him they might become ‘his friends’. It was cute and a little sad at the same time. Louis sat back quietly and watched it all unfold with great amusement until one of the girls asked about Karla – the girl Harry had been linked to in the press recently. Louis felt a stab of irritation and possibly something else, that someone even thought those stupid rumours were even real. It was sheer nonsense started only because they were seen having dinner together. Only the media had played down the six other people at the table and the fact it was an affair hosted by their shared PR company.

Harry fobbed a vague answer to the girl about he and Karla just being friends, _if that_ Louis thought grumpily, but the girl started going on about how she thought they would make such a good couple and how much she looked to Karla as a role model. The stab of irritation in Louis’s stomach turned into full-fledged annoyance at that and he was quick to intercede with a snippy, “they’re _not_ dating. Now if you don’t mind, Harry and I were in the middle of a discussion.” The looks he received were not pretty but the group of teens retreated down the carriage none-the-less. No doubt they would be mentioning his rudeness when they uploaded their precious photos to Twitter. Louis found he didn’t quite give a fuck.

Despite his words, neither of them struck the conversation back up and it was only as they were inching their way up the stairs amid the crowd at Covent Garden Station that Harry finally spoke. Using the cramped conditions as an excuse to get right up to Louis’ back, he chuckled long and low into Louis’s ear before muttering, “Jealousy is a pretty colour on you.” Louis turned and glared at him with all the disdain he could muster, which made Harry bark out an almighty laugh, turning heads, “oh my god,” he squealed, “you actually look like a little angry pixie.”

Louis squawked, thoroughly offended, and turned back around in a huff, _pixie indeed, how rude_. However, a smile twitched at his lips as Harry’s hands slid over his hips possessively and he murmured, “just another reason I adore you so much, though. You can sprinkle me with stardust any day.” It didn’t make sense but Louis was placated none-the-less.

When they got to the top ticket gates, they were recognised by three students (two girls and a guy) in the next queue who fidgeted and nudged each other until Harry took pity and said hello.

“Hi,” the taller of the girls squeaked before she turned to look directly at Louis with a determined smile, “Hi Mr _Tomlinson_.” Louis straightened up a bit in surprise. It wasn’t the first time he’d been recognised, not by a long shot, but it was still really weird, especially when they called him Mr Tomlinson. The girl looked back to Harry and said, “I really enjoyed the last series of Changing Horizons.”

“Thank you,” Harry replied kindly as they shuffled forward in their queues. “What did you think of the ending?”

She paused and glanced between her two friends, “I think you should have gone to Berlin with James.”

“See!” Louis pipped with glee, tapping at Harry’s arm insistently to get his attention, “ _Everyone_ agrees! Johmes is so much better than Jojen.”

“Hey, take it up with the writers,” Harry protested, holding up his hands in surrender, “I just do what they tell me to do. Although,” he pretended to look about for anyone else listening in before leaning in and fake whispering to them, “I do agree with you. Johmes for the win!”

The three students laughed and they all passed through their gates and met up on the other side. It was then that the lone lad spoke up, sounding nervous as he addressed Louis, “Um, I enjoyed your article on the future of lasers in genetic typing, Mr Tomlinson.” Louis blinked and then blushed hard. This kid had actually read his article in the Oxford Periodical and liked it? Was he being serious?

“I’m a biology student – our lecturer recommended it as part of our reading list,” the lad explained, obviously picking up on the ‘what the hell’ vibe.

“Ah…” Louis flushed even more, _holy crap my stuff is studied in Universities_ , “um… well thanks. Have you an interest in laser technology then?”

The guy nodded eagerly and gushed, “I actually want to work in RLA once I graduate. It’s been my goal ever since I was sixteen and I read about your Breakthrough Prize. The opportunities and resources RLA give their employees sound amazing and I would love to develop the relationship between chip and light in terms of analysing genetic data.”

To say Louis was taken aback would be an understatement. He had heard of established scientists wanting to work with RLA but never a student. He had to give it to the kid for having goals. “What is your name?” he asked curiously.

“George Croft, sir.”

Manners _too_ , good heavens, he’d have him in his team any day. “Have you got a piece of paper and a pen George?” He asked, hoping he was about to do the right thing. They all stepped over to the wall out of the other commuters way and the lad quickly rifled through his bag, pulling out a dog-eared notepad and a well-chewed bic pen. Louis look them and scribbled down a name and number then handed the items back. “Here is the number of Leonard Peterson. He is the man in charge of my main lab. If you are interested in a spot of work experience give him a call.”

“T-t-thanks very much,” the lad stuttered looking at the notepad as though he’d just been handed the crown jewels.

“It’s been lovely meeting you all,” Harry spoke up cheerfully, “but Louis and I must get going now or we’ll be late.”

“Could we have a quick picture before you go? With both of you?” the girl who had barely said anything suddenly burst out.

Harry chuckled, “Sure.”

They posed together twice while the girls took turns taking snaps then they wished Harry and Louis a good evening and walked their separate ways.

“That was a lovely thing you just did,” said Harry as they walked up Long Acre.

“Hardly,” Louis shrugged, heating up at the compliment – he could never take those well, “at the end of the day it will be RLA that will benefit the most.”

“Still, you could have just said good luck and left it at that but you didn’t,” Harry persisted.

“Reminded me a bit of myself if I’m honest,” Louis admitted, scratching the back of his head.

“He was cute but not that cute,” Harry mumbled, moving closer to him so as not to get in the way of a buggy.

Louis bit his lip but the grin leaked around his teeth as he looked sideways, “Are you flirting with me again Styles because, as far as I’m aware, the cutest thing around here is that little blush of yours when I start telling you how sweet you are with… oh look,” he stopped and reached out to pinch Harry’s cheeks, “there’s that cute little blush. Oh look-it, it’s growing by the second. How utterly adorable-”

“Stop being a goof,” Harry mock-groaned, grabbing Louis’s hips and turning him around to face the right way, “and watch where you’re going.”

As the approached the restaurant they saw a few photographers waiting outside with their cameras. The restaurant was well-known for the occasional pap-stunt. Celebrities who wanted to be seen would call them here because there was plenty of room to get good shots. Nobody in their circle would have called the paps tonight so clearly this was the work of another celebrity, who was probably still inside which was why the press were still hanging around. Louis gritted his teeth but muscled up a fake smile as the men perked up at their arrival, scrambling for their cameras. As they walked closer, the paps started hurling questions at them, some quite rude about their respective love lives, but the two of them pointedly ignored it and calmly stepped inside the restaurant without uttering a word.

Niall’s table was, thankfully, towards the back – well away from the windows. Perrie, Zayn, two of Niall’s colleagues (Matt and Archie), Liam and, to their delight, Amelia, were already sitting at the table with them all patiently sipping on drinks. They greeted Harry and Louis warmly.

“Hey babe,” said Louis softly, enveloping Amelia in a tight hug, “it’s good to see you, how are you doing, we’ve missed you.”

“I’m okay,” she replied, meeting his eyes, determined and brave “it still hurts but I’m slowly coming to terms with his death. Robyn really helps me get through each day – so long as I have her I’ll be fine – and I’ve missed you guys as well, very much.”

Harry took his turn hugging her and then took a seat opposite Louis, hooking their legs together under the table. To be honest, it was a wonder that no one had sussed them out yet. Louis grinned to himself and then looked around the table again.    

“No Sophia?” he asked in surprise, when he noticed Liam was sandwiched between Perrie and Amelia and the brunette was absent from anywhere else around the table too.

Liam shook his head, expression a little tight, “No, we couldn’t get a sitter so she volunteered to stay behind tonight.”

Louis shared a glance with Harry to check whether he had picked up on a strange vibe but Harry was currently distracted by his phone. So Louis just shrugged, guessing they’d had a fight over it, and replied, “Aww, that’s a shame,” then turned to Niall. “So, are you going to tell us the news now?”

“In a minute,” Niall chuckled, although not quite as spirited as normal, the smile not quite meeting his eyes, “just waiting for two more.” Louis felt his stomach tighten with growing unease. The other two dinner attendees turned out to be Babs’ best friends, Selena Gomez and Stella Maxwell. They turned a few heads as they stepped inside, followed by dazzling flashes from outside, but most patrons shrugged and went back to their meals as seeing a celebrity here wasn’t really a shock. Barbara greeted them both warmly and they took seats next to her at the table. There was no need for introductions as they had all met at the wedding and barely a minute after the women sat down, a waitress appeared, took their orders and left them all to chat amiably until she returned with their drinks. Liam was a little star struck by Selena which she found quite funny. “Honey,” she said to Liam after Zayn mocked him for it, “you are best friends with one of the most famous actors in the world.” She pointed at Harry who waved inanely like the adorable noodle he was. “How can you possibly be affected by me?”

To his credit, Liam found the balls to say, “Well I’ve seen him pick fluff out of his belly button so the spark of his fame has long gone,” to which Harry held up his middle finger and Louis nearly wet himself laughing, “and as I haven’t seen you do that I’m happy to remain oblivious to the fact that you might be human like the rest of us.” Selena found that hilarious and made a show of picking her nose and pretending to flick a bogey off her finger.

It was then that Niall tapped his glass for their attention. “People, people, people, lend me your ears,” they all fell silent. “Now I know you’ve all been wondering why I called you here tonight.” There was a mass eye-roll, “and I shall not keep you in suspense any longer.” He took a deep breath, and looked around at them all, one by one, dragging out the suspense, before rattling out, “Babs and I are moving to The States,” and sitting down quickly. There was a stunned silence as everyone tried to absorb the words.

“W-w-what?” Liam managed to croak out, looking from Niall to Babs and back again as though searching out the joke.

“Niall and I are moving to America,” Babs repeated softly, keeping her eyes down. “Next month.”

“Babs got an amazing modelling contract in New York,” Niall spurted out, like he was trying to get everything out in two seconds to avoid prolonging the agony, “and I’ve been offered a place on the city’s KTU radio team. We’ve even bought a house in Brooklyn, it has a mail box just like you see in the films.”

The silence reigned on. Louis stomach was twisting; on one hand, if this wasn’t a joke, he was excited for his friends’ new job opportunities but, on the other hand… it would mean they would barely ever see them again except for very, very special occasions. On the third, metaphoric hand, if this was joke it wasn’t very funny and he was going to piss in Niall’s stocks of Guinness. As he stared across the table, he could see the same torn emotions on Harry’s face and they struggled to find words to say.

It was Amelia who eventually broke the silence, “Wow, congratulations guys. It’s going to be hard to see you go but it’s too much of an amazing opportunity for you to miss. Seriously, _congratulations_.”

“Thanks,” said Niall quietly and Louis could see the barely suppressed excitement and relief in his face. It wasn’t a joke. This is what he and Babs clearly wanted and they deserved his support. Niall should be grinning from ear to ear not treading with fear of upsetting them.

“Yeah, congratulations guys,” he echoed, holding up his glass of wine. “Like Amelia said, it’s going to be hard to say goodbye to you both but we all have guest rooms for a reason.”

“Hear hear,” said Harry, holding up his own glass, eyes glittering at Louis proudly.

“Thanks guys,” Niall burbled, “I know this must have come as a bit of a shock but moving to America is something we’ve been thinking about for a long time. The jobs coming along were the final push to get us moving on it.”

“When’s your last day at the station?” Matt asked, sounding sad.

“Um… the 24th March I think,” Niall replied, having to think about it. “I’ve already put my notice in though. In fact, I’m surprised Dane didn’t let the cat out of the bag before this.”

“You’ll keep in touch of course,” Perrie appealed to Barbara.

“Of course!” she cried, “and we’ll be back here several times a year for work commitments anyway so we won’t just disappear into the sunset. We’ll visit Ireland as well during the times we’re back in the country. I can’t keep Niall away from his roots forever. Although, I have heard New York has a large Irish contingency – I daresay he’ll find himself an Irish Pub pretty quickly and settle in.”

“Too right I will,” Niall laughed, raising his glass and then draining it in five swallows.

“A toast then,” put in Liam, sitting up straighter, seemingly over his initial shock. Everyone raised their glasses, “To Niall and Barbara, may all your hopes and dreams be realised.”

“And may your lives prosper,” Louis added.

“To goodbyes, that they never be spoken,” Harry added, ever the greeting card, “to friendships, may they never be broken.”

“Hear hear,” was the echo and they all clinked glasses.

 

~*~

A few days later after the shocking news of Niall and Babs leaving had sunk in, things returned to relative normal. That was until Louis was rudely awoken from a late-night nap by insistent knocking on his front door. With a grunt of surprise, his eyes snapped open and, groggy from sleep, it took a moment for him to realise he had been napping on the couch instead of his bed. Harry was in Paris at some kind of fancy film show that Nick had thought would be great for his PR image so Louis had spent the evening watching the Dave channel. Slowly sitting up, he winced as his back and neck protested – he really ought to avoid sleeping on his back. _Knock, knock, knock, knock_. He squinted at the clock. Eleven thirty. Who the hell would be calling around at this time on a Thursday evening? Had they forgotten he works on a Friday? Yawning, he pushed himself to his feet and stumbled out into the hallway, glad he had only bolted the door and didn’t have to go searching for keys. _Knock knock_. “Yeah yeah,” he grumbled, “I’m coming, keep your hair on!”

He hit the porch light switch, then threw back the two bolts and cautiously opened the door, ready to slam it closed should it be a lazy burglar. It took a second for him to realise who it was standing on the doorstep and it was with great incredulity that he croaked, “ _Liam_?” His friend was still dressed in the same clothes he’d worn to work – although he’d thrown a sweater and coat on top of his shirt.

“Uh hi Lou… sorry to call so late,” he greeted sheepishly, running a hand backwards through his short hair, “don’t suppose I could scrounge a bed for the night?”

It was then Louis clocked the stuffed rucksack hanging over Liam’s shoulder. _Oh shit_. _This is not good, this is not good at all,_ his head screeched _._ “Yeah, of course mate,” he stuttered, “come on in.” He stood back and held the door open as Liam stepped inside. “Go… um… put your bag up in the top guest room. There’s clean linen in the airing cupboard - help yourself. I’ll make us a cup of tea.”

As he filled the kettle, Louis’s heart pounded in his chest and he worried his lip. Clearly Liam and Sophia had had a fight. A _big_ fight, otherwise Liam would not be here. If it had been a case that he’d simply forgotten his house keys and Sophia was out with the boys then he wouldn’t have the rucksack. No, they had had a fight and Liam had packed his bag – either on demand or voluntarily. But what could be so big that he would feel the need to leave rather than sleep on the couch? Sure, Liam had moaned about arguments and had admitted to the occasional stint of sleeping in the spare room but it had always seemed like a bit of a running joke – the usual woes of married life. Never in Louis’s memory had he known Liam to leave the house after a fight. Clearly, whatever they had argued about tonight was serious enough that they couldn’t handle being anywhere near each other. The question was: was this a sign of something much bigger and scarier?

By the time he’d finished pouring them both a mug Liam hadn’t reappeared so Louis took the tea upstairs. The top guestroom was in the attic – on the third floor if you will. It was of a reasonable size; easily accommodating a double bed with side cabinets, a large built-in wardrobe, a TV cabinet and an armchair. It also had it’s own en suite bathroom – squeezing in a sink, toilet and bathtub with an overhanging shower. With his family originally in mind, Louis had kept the décor clean and fresh with whites, blacks and apple green. Only, his family had never used it...

As he stepped into the room, he saw Liam was sitting on the bed - fondling something that looked like a photo-frame. It took a moment for Louis to realise it was the picture of Charlie and Jack that he kept on one of the bedside cabinets and his heart melted sympathetically. Clearing his throat, he watched with a lump in his throat as Liam straightened and casually returned the frame to it’s spot.

“So,” Louis walked over and perched on the bed beside his friend. He passed him one of the mugs which Liam took gratefully. “On a scale of it’ll be fine in the morning to we’re so far up shit creek light can’t even reach us, how bad are we talking?”

Liam swallowed thickly, staring at carpet, “I think we’re in trouble,” he said quietly, “ _serious_ trouble.”

Louis nodded sharply; it was as he’d feared and he felt a rush of sorrow for his friend. Breaking up with a girlfriend was hard enough but a wife? A family? He put a comforting arm around Liam’s shoulder, squeezing gently, hoping to evoke a little comfort. The resigned slump of his mate’s shoulder told him that, while it was a shock for _him_ , this wasn’t out of the blue for Liam. This had been brewing up for a long time and he felt bad that he hadn’t been there for him before this. He knew Liam adored Sophia, and he knew that Sophia adored Liam but clearly loving each other was not enough anymore – not entirely surprising either considering how little they saw each other outside of work. With Liam working 9-5 during the week, 7.30 – 6 including travel, and with Sophia often away at shows on the weekends as well as her usual 9-3 during the day, juggling their time was hard - especially when you factored in the boys too. Louis knew they often struggled to ensure there was someone there for the boys. Getting a babysitter at the drop of a hat, like when your boss announces a last minute meeting or if a showing runs on late, was incredibly difficult. Louis knew Sophia was most often the one who had to change her plans and that had long been a source of contention between the couple. He tried to offer help whenever he could – occasionally sitting the boys at weekends if Liam was out of the country and Sophia had a show, or letting the boys play in his office if Sophia was tied up at work and couldn’t pick them up from pre-school/nursery. He had even stayed overnight with the boys if Liam and Sophia had a work dinner/event and wouldn’t finish until very late. But that was like sticking a plaster on a gaping chest wound. All in all, it was actually surprising this breakdown hadn’t happened sooner.

Childcare was only part of the problem, though, Liam explained when Louis put forth his thoughts. Arguments cropped up over the housework, shopping, lost or forgotten bills, ongoing DIY, various appointments the boys had and whose turn it was to take them, miscommunication, unavailability when it came to supporting the other in their job, a lack of romance due to tiredness, stress and short temperedness… What started out as occasional rows had become a daily constant and the weary reminders and polite requests had become sniping comments and antagonistic guilt-trips. Louis listened quietly as Liam talked, hating himself more and more for not noticing and not following it up on his suspicions during the times he’d spotted something odd. Like during Niall’s get together earlier in the week.

“I’m really, really sorry mate,” he offered as Liam finished admitting about how he and Sophia could barely find common ground anymore whenever they did actually get time to themselves. “I really didn’t realise things had gotten so bad. Is there anything else I can do to help, to make it easier for you both?”

Liam shook his head and rubbed his face wearily, “No, I don’t think so, but thanks for offering mate. In all honesty, I think Soph and I need a lot more than an easier schedule to fix what’s wrong between us. We had the row to end all rows when I got home tonight and I don’t actually know if we can recover from it. God,” he cradled his head in his hands, the pain and guilt on his face almost tangible “it was so bad Charlie came in crying… begging us to stop. It was…” Liam’s voice cracked, “so _horrible_. I’ve never felt like such a failure of a parent.” He scrubbed his hands down his face, “Soph obviously felt the same because as soon as the kids were in bed she sat down with me and agreed we can’t go on like this. For the sake of the kids something has to change. Long story short, we talked about what we felt were the biggest issues between us right now and we both admitted it went deeper than our jobs and time management. How much deeper remains to be seen; that’s why she thinks we should have a trial separation.”

“Shit,” Louis swore uselessly. “ _Shit_ Liam.”

“I know,” Liam nodded miserably, “I thought she might have suggested couples’ counselling or something but, no, she went straight for the jugular. It was then I realised she’s obviously been thinking about this for a while and… she’d clearly rather separate than work on it. And that _hurt_. It really hurt. After everything we’ve been through… after what we had promised each other in our vows… It really really hurt and I got angry again and said something along the lines of _fine, might as well start now_ , packed my bags and well… here I am.” His voice broke again and a tear slipped down his cheek, “God, I have no idea what to do or where to go from here.”

Louis sighed and pulled his friend into a sideways hug, “Well, I can’t answer you that but I can promise that you’re welcome here as long as you need to stay.”

Maybe things would be better in the morning. Maybe after a night apart spent on the scary edge of separation Sophia would come rushing over in the morning to rectify things between them.

 


	16. Chapter 15

Sophia did not come rushing over in the morning and Louis had to endure a whole day of fielding calls and messages from their shocked and concerned friends who had heard what had happened through their grapevine. Liam refused to stay home though and went to work as normal – insisting he would rather keep busy so as to take his mind off the situation.   
Hearing about the split, Amelia had been quick to offer Liam her and Cole’s house to stay in. While she wasn’t ready to return yet, as there were four bedrooms Liam was free to take one of the spares as his own and use the other spare for the boys to stay over in – that way he could stay as long as he liked, even after Amelia and Robyn came home. Personally, Louis thought this was a brilliant idea because he was sure it would lure Amelia back to them a lot quicker. She was the type of person to drop her own issues in the face of helping someone else through their’s. Also, it meant he and Harry wouldn’t have to hide their relationship from Liam in their own home. Of course, they could just tell him but… Louis wanted ‘them’ all to themselves for a little bit longer – just until they were completely comfortable. Kissing and touching still felt so new and he didn’t want teased about it just yet – not even in a fond teasing kind of way.

Harry was understandably subdued when he arrive home mid afternoon. He stopped at RLA and shared a cuppa with Louis in his office. “What’s happening to us,” he sighed sadly as they cuddled on Louis’ chair. “First Cole, then Niall and Barbara leaving us and now Liam and Sophia breaking up... why’s everything going wrong right now?”

Louis kissed his cheek, “I know, love, I know, but _we’re_ not going wrong, that’s something at least.” It drew a smile from Harry and a lingering kiss. “Also,” Louis mumbled against his mouth, “Liam and Sophia haven’t split for definite. There’s still hope if they both really want it.”

“I guess,” Harry sighed before kissing him again. Of course, that’s when Louis’s Grandfather decided to walk in.

 

~*~

 

“I think I’m going to be sick,” Harry whined, wringing his hands nervously as he stared up at the ridiculously grand manor. “Can’t we just go home and pretend we didn’t realise it was today?”

“No,” said Louis firmly, shutting the car door on his side and trying not to show how amused he was, “we made the decision to do this so let’s get it over with. The worst she can do is throw us out and disown me.”

Harry blanched at him, clearly thinking that was pretty much the worst thing anyway. “What are you so nervous about anyway?” Louis couldn’t help but ask. “She _loves_ your family. It’s _mine_ she’s not so keen on.” Great Grandmother Austin had never kept it secret that she disapproved of his mum, Jay, and that she had super-not-approved of her working-class background.

“Yeah, but I’m the one defiling her Great Grandson and spoiling the family line.”

Louis stopped and laughed incredulously, “Defil… oh my god, I cannot believe that just came out of your mouth.” He collapsed against the car in kinks. “I… I am definitely keeping that one for future mocking. Ahahahahahaha.”

“Oh shut up, you know what I meant,” Harry huffed and started to walk reluctantly towards the front door. Each step felt like one closer to the hangman’s noose and he grew slower and slower.   
“Right,” Louis hissed, nudging his side, “the key to surviving is to remember your manners, lots of pleases and thank-yous after everything, show your culture - if she offers you tea it’s milk with Afternoon and lemon with Earl Grey, don’t eat the wafers though – they’re disgusting and stale. Also, watch where you sit because her homicidal cat will cut you up if you get too close… oh and she’s going deaf so talk louder but don’t make it look as if you are. She hates people talking too loud – says it’s trashy and uncultured.”

As they got to the front door it was opened by Louis’s Grandfather and he looked weary as though he’d just had a good ear-bashing. “Hello lads,” he greeted tightly, “come on in. She’s uh… lively today.”

Louis stepped over the threshold with a wince. God, this old Victorian trap still smelled the same as when he was a child; like old leather, ancient wood, death and pine furniture polish. Of course, he’d been here many times since but he always hoped things would have improved. Nope, the gaudy four-tier chandelier still hung over the stairs and the carpet was the same, slightly faded, floral monstrosity.

“Oh hell…” Louis whispered as he spotted movement between the chairs. The evil cat was on the prowl.

His grandmother was, as per usual, sitting in her chair in the living room. Small, wrinkled, suited and stern, she was every inch the rich little old lady with perfectly coiffed hair and a lifetime’s worth of proper posture. Lady Margaret Anne Talbot Austin certainly painted a formidable picture and Louis felt Harry press closer. “Louis,” said his Great Grandmother, “late as always.”  
Louis swallowed back a snarky response and replied as cheerfully as possible, “We’re actually on time, it’s not quite one o’clock yet.”

“It may be fashionable to be late,” she said stiffly, taking off her spectacles and polishing them with her thousand pound scarf, “but manners state you should be fifteen minutes early for appointments. Surely I’ve told you that more than once?” It took all of Louis’s effort not to offer the two finger salute. “Who is this then?” She pointed to Harry. “Surely you haven’t forgotten your manners as well as your social respect?”

“Good afternoon, madam, I’m Harry Styles,” Harry quickly spoke up, stepping forward to kiss her hand in a way that Louis had to clap a hand over his mouth to keep from bursting out laughing. “I apologise for our oversight. We underestimated the traffic.”

“Ah _Harold_ ,” her tone brightened, as did her expression at his antics, _lusty old crow_ Louis thought with a shudder. “My son advised me you may be joining us today. My my, haven’t you grown up into a handsome young man, I was just speaking to your mother the other day, delightful woman she is, and she was telling me you have become quite the successful actor.”

“Thank you Ma’am.”

“Your mother also informed me you have become quite taken with my Great grandson here. I do hope he is treating you with the utmost respect. Courtship is very different these days compared to my own youth but deference is still incredibly important. I suppose matrimony is still a far off prospect but please note I am very supportive. Louis needs someone of solidarity, like yourself, to lead him on the right path.”

Louis’s mouth was almost on the floor. He couldn’t fucking believe it! She already _knew_! Harry’s mum had told her and the old crow approved. Holy fucking shit. He stared at Harry, agape, wondering if he had known all along that his mother had already spilled the beans. Harry looked as taken aback as he did – obviously his mother had not mentioned it to him either. This whole lunch was now practically pointless – all this reluctance and effort for nothing. He was going to have to put up with the miserly witch for two hours now with nothing to show for it. _Son of a fucking bitch!_ The glint in his Great Grandmother’s eye said she had a good idea what was thinking and found it greatly satisfying.

Louis sulked all the way home and Harry found it absolutely hilarious. Of course, Great-Granny Austin had continued to treat Harry like he was the second coming of Jesus for the rest of the visit. From the moment Harry sat down in the living room she had practically ignored Robert and Louis’s presence completely, focussing on finding out as much about Harry as she possibly could. They rolled from Harry’s career to his charity work to his tastes in literature all before lunch was served. Harry had her totally eating out the palm of his hand. Louis excused himself to the toilet at one point and came back to find the evil cat sitting on Harry’s knee purring happily under his gentle petting. Louis hadn’t been so outraged in all his life. To make matters worse, the moment he approached the cat hissed and Louis had to gingerly sit a foot further along the sofa for safety.

“So…” said Harry lightly as he idly tapped a rhythm on the steering wheel, “I think I’ve got your Great Grandmother’s blessing to date you.”

Louis just shot him the two finger salute and made him stop at the nearest McDonalds in compensation. He had to get the taste of dry Salmon Dill sandwiches out of his mouth and what better way to do it than by going to the restaurant his Great Gran and Harry had just been slamming as a menace to civilised society. If he dripped a bit of ketchup on Harry’s precious seat after promising he wouldn’t then… what a shame.

 

~*~

 

Niall and Babs leaving party was as epic as one expected. They hired out a club and anyone who was anyone was there. From ex members of JLS to David Beckham; the royalty of celebrities were out in their droves. Harry and Louis got giggly drunk really quickly and were nearly caught snogging in the toilets by Zayn. Although they were sure he hadn’t seen anything, the look he’s given them was long and suspicious. Nearly being caught seemed to have been a bit of a turn on for Harry, though, because he could not keep his hands off Louis for the rest of the night. His hands were possessive over Louis’s hips and his mouth too close to Louis’s neck and ear lobes for Louis to fully function.

Half way through the evening, the staff wheeled out an enormous Irish themed cake with the banner ‘ _Slán go fóill_ Niall and Barbara! The sponge was multicoloured and filled with squidgy jam and buttercream and was so delicious Louis had four large wedgies over the course of the night. The latter piece was fed to him by a drunk and overly-touchy Harry in the back of a taxi. Perhaps that’s why, at three thirty in the morning, Louis found himself sitting on his kitchen table, fly gaping, cock straining, as Harry desperately wanked them both off to the ticking of the kitchen clock. Louis yelped so loudly as he came that he probably woke his neighbours.

The next morning Louis’s vomit was a multi-coloured mess and he swore never to mix cake and alcohol again. Handjobs, on the other hand, he was definitely up for and proved it by waking Harry up after a long nap with one. Okay, so he might have blushed all the way through it and he maybe couldn’t make eye contact with either Harry’s face or the piece of flesh he was touching, but he was definitely getting better and more confident with this and that was the main thing surely?.

 

~*~

 

It was July when Louis decided that the time was right to tell everyone about them. By that point Harry had long been sleeping in Louis’s bed every night, they were getting frustrated at having to think twice about their instinctive affection in public and Louis was now so comfortable in their sexual activities that only last week he had blown Harry in the park. Okay, so it had been very late at night and they’d been right in the thick of some trees and Harry had cum so quick that they barely had time to savour the naughtiness of it let alone worry about being caught. Still, it showed they had reached a point where Louis felt comfortable enough that he felt he would be able to cope with almost anything anyone might say. Further more, and probably most importantly, Louis was so in love with Harry that it was almost painful to try and tame it.

When Louis had admitted to Harry he was ready and Harry got so emotional he buried himself in the duvet and cried, Louis knew he’d definitely made the right decision. All that remained was to decide how to go about it. Should they do it one by one or announce it in a group setting or just go all out in public? Did they do it subtly, build it up or get it over in one big unmistakable grand gesture? Whatever happened there was going to be big hoo-ha about it in the press and that was the thing Louis didn’t want to deal with the most – the intrusion. In the end they figured the ‘ripping the plaster off’ method and then disappearing until the pandemonium had calmed down a little was the best way to handle it.

That is why Louis was now sitting on a seat in the airport waiting for Harry to come back from the toilet. His legs were bouncing nervously and he could barely focus on the information that scrolled across the big screen above.

“Gate five,” Harry announced happily when he finally made it back, their tickets clutched in hand. He reached down and gently pulled Louis to his feet before his smile disappeared. “Are you _sure_ this is how you want to do it? Last chance to change your mind – I won’t hold it against you.”

Louis shook his head determinedly, “Not backing out. I’m nervous but I’m very sure about doing this. How about you? Are _you_ still okay with this?”

Harry’s grin was almost blinding. “Hell _yes_!”

Louis found himself grinning in return, hopelessly swayed by Harry’s enthusiasm. “Then let’s go create some chaos, darling.”

They picked up their carry-ons and made for the gate. As per usual Heathrow was very busy, not helped by it being the beginning of summer and the older families trying to get away before the schools were let out and holiday prices skyrocketed. Nobody really gave Harry or Louis a second glance as they strolled by, which was what they were aiming for. When they reached their gate there were a few people waiting in line to present their tickets so they calmly joined the queue. Now that they were right there, Louis could barely keep still with his excitement. He kept glancing at Harry’s hands and thinking, _just a few more minutes and I’ll be holding one of those_.

In a blink of an eye they were walking through the doors to the tune of ‘enjoy your flight gentlemen,’ and Harry’s hand slipped into Louis’s and gripped firmly. Grinning like fools they walked up the ramp towards the plane swinging their clasped hands between them. Harry had booked them Business Class seats so that they would hopefully have a little bit of peace from the main cabin and anyone who might pick up the news before they are airborne. It also meant they would be able to sit alone without having a third wheel bearing witness. The stewardess greeted them sweetly and showed them to their seats. Very gallantly, Harry took Louis’s bag and stowed it in the overhead locker with his own before offering Louis the window seat. “Aah,” he sighed happily as he sat down and stretched out his long legs, “gotta love the extra leg room these seats offer.”

Louis chuckled distracted as he loaded up the camera on his phone, the tremble in his fingers barely noticeable. When he was ready he tapped Harry’s thigh, “Okay love, let’s do this.”

Grinning, Harry snuggled up close; wrapping his arm around Louis’s shoulder while Louis tucked his head under Harry’s chin – their favourite cuddling position. Louis held out the phone as far as he could and took a picture.

“Aww that’s a good one,” Harry cooed as they studied it. The photo was soft and their adoration of each other brighter than the sunshine streaming in from the plane window. “Love you,” he murmured as he kissed Louis’s cheek.

“Love you too,” Louis smiled as he returned the kiss and started to upload the photo to Twitter.

“Do you know what you’re going to say?”

Louis nodded. He had been thinking about this for weeks. Once he was finished he showed Harry the caption before sending it and Harry barked out a laugh. “Oh I almost wish I could see everyone’s indignation. They are going to kill us.”

“Hopefully by the time we come back they will have cooled off and will forgive us for not telling them before hand.” Louis hovered his thumb over the send button. “Together?”

Harry nodded and slipped his hand over Louis’s. On the count of three they pressed send.

 

**Two weeks in the** **Algarve** **with my gorgeous boyfriend of 7 months @Harry_Styles #soexcited**

Louis then switched his phone off. They would deal with the drama when they got home. This was their time now and they were going to make the most of it that they could.


	17. Epilogue

1 ½ tears later…

 

“In sure and certain hope of the resurrection to eternal life through our Lord Jesus Christ, we commend to Almighty God our sister Isobel Mary Anne Blenheim Austin; and we commit her body to the ground; earth to earth; ashes to ashes, dust to dust. The Lord bless her and keep her, the Lord make his face to shine upon her and be gracious unto her and give her peace. Amen.”  
“Amen.”  
The Reverend closed his book and looked around the gathered crowd, “may the lord guide you peacefully through your grief.”  
Louis stared down at the coffin with it’s abundance of brightly coloured wreathes and sniffed hard.  
“There, there dear,” the reedy voice of a random old lady soothed as she patted his arm, “she’s at peace now. Take comfort in the knowledge she lived a long and full life.” Then she wandered away.

Liam quickly stepped up to his elbow and held out a tissue, which Louis took gratefully, blowing his nose hard.  
“Ugh, fudding cold,” he groaned as he turned the tissue round and blew again. “Bedd da old crow gave it to me on purpus – just ta make sure I looked all sad at her fooneral.”

“Ah, from ‘wise, genteel pillar of society’ to ‘old crow’, how quickly you change your tune,” Liam chuckled.

“She bequeathed me that evil cat,” Louis hissed, “she truly hated me!”

 

 

~*~

 

Louis was nervous. Louis was very nervous. But this was something he had been planning for a long time now and he wasn’t going to back out just because he was a little jittery. Several of the crew shot him a warm smile and a wink as he passed them and several others patted his back in encouragement. They knew exactly what was going on. Biting his lip he sneaked across the sand and approached the set from behind, well out of Harry’s eyeline. He just wanted to catch a glimpse of his boyfriend. It had been two months since they had seen each over physically thanks to Harry shooting out on location in the Bahamas and Louis had missed him so much. Before getting together, Harry's absences had been like missing a limb but now they were like missing a vital organ.

Sure enough, they were between scenes and Louis could see Harry sitting on a bench in the shade, playing with his phone - probably texting him some random anecdote. Louis felt a fierce rush of love and yearning for his boyfriend but managed to stop himself running over and ruining the surprise. Instead, he turned and asked the nearest crew member where the make-up trailer was.

“Louis!” Lou Teasdale squealed as he stepped inside. She almost floored him with her fierce hug. “I’ve got everything ready like you asked,” she gushed, “I think that chair,” she pointed to a leather chair that was against the wall, “could pass for your office one and Art managed to match your office wall pretty well I think. They’ve put the screen inside the food tent so you’ll only have to walk about ten feet to reach Harry.”

“Fantastic, thank you!” Louis sighed in relief. “Have the others arrive yet?”

“Yeah,” she nodded, they’re waiting in one of the cast trailers.

“Perfect,” he grinned. “You’ll give them the nod?”

“You bet ya!”

“Let’s do this then.”

They carried the chair out to the food tent and Louis marvelled at just how realistic the screen looked to his office. He sat the chair down smack in the middle and took a seat. Lou squeaked in excitement again and wished him good luck before going out to find a good viewing spot.

Taking a deep breath he slipped his phone out of his pocket and opened Skype. Even at arm's reach the screen edges did not show in the video footage so there was little risk of Harry suspecting anthing.

He knew he didn’t have much time to do this so he scrolled through his contact names until his thumb rested on Harry. He hit video call.

Harry took a good few seconds to answer and Louis realised, to his panic, that there was a chance Harry might not have his phone sound switched on. But, as quickly as he started to franticly think of what to do if that was the case, his call was accepted.

“Hey!” Harry looked delighted at the unexpected call. “This is a nice surprise. Everything okay or just taking a break?”

“Yeah, just taking a break” Louis replied rather breathlessly. “I’ve been distracted all day by how much I miss you and thought a quick call might help me concentrate better.”

“Aww, I'm missing you too love - counting the weeks to October. You better not back out of coming for a visit.”

“Not on your life,” Louis chuckled. “I’ve got the flight booked already.” Harry’s face lit up and Louis felt his stomach flutter. He loved making Harry happy. “I had a startling thought earlier…” he began, his speech memorised word for word.

“Mmmmhmm?” said Harry.

“We’ve been together for over two and a half years now. I can't believe the time gone so quick!”

“Time flies when you’re having fun?” Harry offered with a soft smile.

“True,” Louis agreed, “we have a lot of fun.”

“The best.”

“The bestest.”

“The best bestest.”

“The bestest bestest,” Louis insisted.  
Harry smirked, ”The bestest bestest to infinity.”

“And beyond!” Louis finished, his jaw aching from grinning so hard, “I love you. You’re so amazing.”

Harry’s brightened even more, “Aww babe, you’re the amazing one.”

“No Harry,” and it was time, “you truly are amazing. I’ve never met someone so sweet and kind and funny and caring and loyal and patient. My God are you patient. It’s kind of humbling actually,” he watched as Harry’s eyes tear up. “You’ve set the bar high for being a human and I can only follow in awe. I’m not even exaggerating here. The kindness you’ve shown me over the years is overwhelming and I cannot believe I’m lucky enough to have someone like you in my life.” He swallowed hard and hovered his thumb over the end-call button. “I don’t ever want you to think otherwise and it kills me to know that sometimes you do. You chased me for so long and it pains me that sometimes you can’t believe that I stopped running and let you catch up with me. Therefore, I think it’s time I put your mind at rest and prove to you I am not going anywhere. I am yours Harry. Yours. And there’s only one question left to ask…” closing his eyes his pressed the end call and then hurtled out of the tent. Like Lou had said, it was only took a few seconds to reach where Harry was now standing, screeching desperately as he punched uselessly at his phone trying to re-establish a connection, “No! No! What was he about to ask! What was he about to ask?!”

Louis dropped to the sand and called loudly, “Will you marry me?”

Harry spun around so fast he nearly toppled over. For a moment he took in Louis’s kneeling position in the sand and the ring box held forth with wide, watery eyes. Then his face crumpled and he burst into tears. “Yes,” he sobbed, “oh my god, yes! Yes!” He fell to the sand too and met Louis in a frantic kiss, nearly overbalancing them both as the set roared with cheers. Louis held him close and kiss back fiercely. Then he pulled back and plucked the ring out the box, gently tugging Harry’s hand towards him. They both giggled wetly as the band slid down Harry’s finger and then kissed again.

“I love you,” Louis whispered against his lips.

“I love you, too,” Harry sniffled, “wow,” he choked out, “I can’t believe you’re here, I can’ believe you just proposed to me. To _me_.” He stared disbelievingly at the shiny band on his finger and then looked up, eyes shimmering.

“I’ve got one more little surprise,” Louis admitted, “Turn around.”

Unsuspecting, Harry slowly turned around and let out a choked sob as he saw all their friends and family standing there. Anne, Robin, Gemma, Amelia, Liam, Robyn, Perrie, Zayn, Niall, Barbara Lottie, Felicity, the twins…

“I love you,” Louis said again, gently wiping Harry’s cheeks with his thumbs, “and I cannot wait to spend the rest of my life with you.”

“Me either,” Harry sniffed and they slowly climbed to their feet.

“Just so you know, your mum’s insisted in throwing us a big engagement party – she seemed to think there was no chance you would say no and that this was an occasion to go all out.”

“How well she knows me," Harry chuckled, "let's go eat some cake then, fiance"

 

The End

 


End file.
